LffiRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

Mr.    H.   H.    Kiliani 


1 


UCSB  LIBRAHY 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arGliive.org/details/fatliergoriotmgobOObalziala 


H.    DE    BALZAC 


THE    COMEDIE    HUMAINE 


>^ 


>.l> 


■>' 


^^-C" 


THERE    WAS    A    SPLENDID   CARRIAGE    WAITING- 
GOT   INTO  IT. 


AND    SHE 


H.    DE     BALZAC 


Father  Goriot 

(Le  Pere  Goriot) 

AND 

M.    GOBSECK 


TRANSLATED    BY 


ELLEN    MARRIAGE 


WITH  A  PKEFACK  BY 


GEORGE    SAINTSBURY 


^ 


PHILADELPHIA 

The  Gebbie  Publishing  Co.,  Ltd. 
1898 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PREFACE ix 

FATHER   GORIOT I 

M.  GOBSECK 305 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THERE  WAS    A    SPLENDID    CARRIAGE    WAITING AND 

she  GOT  INTO  IT Frontispiece 

PAGB 

THE   HORSE   TOOK   FRIGHT   AT  THE   UMBRELLA        ....         59 

"AM    I   TO   YOUR   TASTE?" I5I 

VAUTRIN   CAME   IN    IN    HIGH   SPIRITS 183 

CLOTHES      AND      PAPERS      AND      RAGS      LAY      TOSSED      ABOUT      IN 

CONFUSION 363 


PREFACE. 

**  Father  Goriot  "  perhaps  deserves  to  be  ranked  as  that 
one  of  Balzac's  novels  which  has  united  the  greatest  number 
of  suffrages,  and  which  exhibits  his  peculiar  merits,  not  indeed 
without  any  of  his  faults,  but  with  the  merits  in  eminent,  and 
the  faults  not  in  glaring,  degree.  It  was  written  (the  preface 
is  dated  1834)  at  the  time  when  his  genius  was  at  its  very 
height,  when  it  had  completely  burst  the  strange  shell  which 
had  so  long  enveloped  and  cramped  it,  when  the  scheme  of  the 
"  Com^die  Humaine  "  was  not  quite  finally  settled  (it  never 
was  that),  but  elaborated  to  a  very  considerable  extent,  when 
the  author  had  already  acquired  most  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
actual  world  which  he  possessed,  and  when  his  physical  powers 
were  as  yet  unimpaired  by  his  enormous  labor  and  his  reckless 
disregard  of  "burning  the  candle  at  both  ends."  Although 
it  exhibits,  like  nearly  all  his  work,  the  complication  of  interest 
and  scheme  which  was  almost  a  necessity  to  him,  that  compli- 
cation is  kept  within  reasonable  bounds,  and  managed  with 
wonderful  address.  The  history  of  Goriot  and  his  daughters, 
the  fortunes  of  Eugene  de  Rastignac,  and  the  mysterious  per- 
sonality and  operations  of  Vautrin,  not  only  all  receive  due 
and  unperplexed  development,  but  work  upon  each  other  with 
that  correspondence  and  interdependence  which  form  the 
rarest  gift  of  the  novelist,  and  which,  when  present,  too  com- 
monly have  attached  to  them  the  curse  of  over-minuteness  and 
complexity.  No  piece  of  Balzac's  Dutch  painting  is  worked 
out  with  such  marvelous  minuteness  as  the  Maison  Vauquer, 
and  hardly  any  book  of  his  has  more  lifelike  studies  of 
character. 

(ix) 


X  PREFACE. 

It  would,  however,  not  be  difficult  to  find  books  with  an 
almost,  if  not  quite,  equal  accumulation  of  attractions,  which 
have  somehow  failed  to  make  the  mark  that  has  been  made 
by  "Father  Goriot."  And  the  practiced  critic  of  novels 
knows  perfectly  well  why  this  is.  It  is  almost  invariably,  and 
perhaps  quite  invariably,  because  there  is  no  sufficiently  central 
interest,  or  because  that  interest  is  not  of  the  broadly  human 
kind.  Had  Goriot  had  no  daughters,  he  would  undoubtedly 
have  been  a  happier  man  (or  a  less  happy,  for  it  is  possible  to 
take  it  both  ways)  ;  but  the  history  of  his  decadence  and  death 
never  could  have  been  such  a  good  novel.  It  is  because  this 
history  of  the  daughters — not  exactly  unnatural,  not  wholly 
without  excuse,  but  as  surely  murderesses  of  their  father  as 
Goneril  and  Regan — at  once  unites  and  overshadows  the 
whole,  because  of  its  intensity,  its  simple  and  suasive  appeal, 
that  "  Father  Goriot  "  holds  the  place  it  does  hold.  That  it 
owes  something  in  point  of  suggestion  to  "  Lear  "  does  not  in 
the  least  impair  its  claims.  Tiie  circumstances  and  treatment 
have  that  entire  difference  which,  when  genius  is  indebted  to 
genius,  pays  all  the  score  there  is  at  once.  And,  besides, 
"Lear"  has  offered  its  motive  for  three  hundred  years  to 
thousands  and  millions  of  people  who  have  been  writing  plays 
and  novels,  and  yet  there  is  only  one  "  Father  Goriot." 

It  is,  however,  a  fair  subject  of  debate  for  those  who  like 
critical  argument  of  the  nicer  kind,  whether  Balzac  has  or  has 
not  made  a  mistake  in  representing  the  ex-dealer  in  floury  com- 
pounds as  a  sort  of  idiot  outside  his  trade  abilities  and  his  love 
for  his  daughters.  That  in  doing  so  he  was  guided  by  a  sense 
of  poetical  justice  and  consistency — the  same  sense  which 
made  Shakespeare  dwell  on  the  ungovernable  temper  and  the 
undignified  haste  to  get  rid  of  the  cares  of  sovereignty  that 
bring  on  and  justify  the  woes  of  Lear — is  undeniable.  But 
it  would  perhaps  not  have  been  unnatural,  and  it  would  have 
been  even  more  tragic,  if  the  ci  devant  manufacturer  had  been 
represented  as  more  intellectually  capable,  and  as  ruining  him- 


PREFACE.  TO. 

self  in  spite  of  his  better  judgment.  On  this  point,  however, 
both  sides  may  be  held  with  equal  ease  and  cogency,  and  I  do 
not  decide  either  way.  Of  the  force  and  pathos  of  the  actual 
representation,  no  two  opinions  are  possible.  There  is  hardly 
a  touch  of  the  one  fault  which  can  be  urged  against  Balzac  very 
often  with  some,  and  sometimes  with  very  great,  justice — the 
fault  of  exaggeration  and  phantasmagoric  excess.  Here  at 
least  the  possibilities  of  actual  life,  as  translatable  into  litera- 
ture, are  not  one  whit  exceeded ;  and  the  artist  has  his  full 
reward  for  being  true  to  art. 

Almost  equally  free  from  the  abnormal  and  the  gigantic  is 
the  portraiture  of  Rastignac.  Even  those  who  demur  to  the 
description  of  Balzac  as  an  impeccable  chronicler  of  society 
must  admit  the  extraordinary  felicity  of  the  pictures  of  the 
young  man's  introduction  to  the  drawing-rooms  of  Mesdames 
de  Restaud  and  de  Beaus6ant.  Neither  Fielding  nor  Thack- 
eray— that  is  to  say,  no  one  else  in  the  world  of  letters — could 
have  drawn  with  more  absolute  vividness  and  more  absolute 
veracity  a  young  man,  not  a  parvenu  in  point  of  birth,  not 
devoid  of  native  cleverness  and  "star,"  but  hampered  by  the 
consciousness  of  poverty  and  by  utter  ignorance  of  the  actual 
ways  and  current  social  fashions  of  the  great  world  when  he  is 
first  thrown,  to  sink  or  swim,  into  this  great  world  itself.  We 
may  pass  from  the  certain  to  the  dubious,  or  at  least  the 
debatable,  when  we  pass  from  Rastignac's  first  appearance  to 
his  later  experiences.  Here  comes  in  what  has  been  said  in 
the  general  introduction  as  to  the  somewhat  fantastic  and 
imaginary,  the  conventional  and  artificial  character  of  Balzac's 
world.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  for  centuries  the 
whole  structure  of  Parisian  society  has  been  to  a  very  great 
extent  fantastic  and  imaginary,  conventional  and  artificial. 
Men  and  women  have  always  played  parts  there  as  they  have 
played  them  nowhere  else.  And  it  must  be  confessed  that 
some  of  the  parts  here,  if  planned  to  the  stage,  are  played  to 
the  life — that  of  Madame  de  Beauseant  especially. 


xii  PREFACE. 

It  is  Vautrin  on  whom  Balzac's  decriers,  if  they  are  so 
hardy  as  to  attack  this  most  unattackable  book  of  his  at  all, 
must  chiefly  fasten.  It  was  long  ago  noticed — indeed,  sober 
eyes  both  in  France  and  elsewhere  noticed  it  at  the  time — 
that  the  criminal,  more  or  less  virtuous,  more  or  less  terrible, 
more  or  less  superhuman,  exercised  a  kind  of  sorcery  over 
minds  in  France  from  the  greatest  to  the  least  at  this  particular 
time,  and  even  later.  Not  merely  Balzac,  but  Victor  Hugo 
and  George  Sand,  succumbed  to  his  fascinations;  and  after 
these  three  names  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  mention  any 
others.  And  Balzac's  proneness  to  the  enormous  and  gigant- 
esque  made  the  fascination  peculiarly  dangerous  in  his  case. 
Undoubtedly  the  Vautrin  who  talks  to  Rastignac  in  the  arbor 
is  neither  quite  a  real  man  nor  quite  the  same  man  who  is 
somewhat  ignominiously  caught  by  the  treachery  of  his  board- 
ing-house fellows ;  undoubtedly  we  feel  that  with  him  we 
have  left  Shakespeare  a  long  way  behind,  and  are  getting 
rather  into  the  society  of  Bouchardy  or  Eugene  Sue.  But 
the  genius  is  here  likewise,  and,  as  usual,  it  saves  everything. 

How  it  extends  to  the  minutest  and  even  the  least  savory 
details  of  Madame  Vauquer's  establishment,  how  it  irradiates 
the  meannesses  and  the  sordidnesses  of  the  inhabitants  thereof, 
those  who  have  read  know,  and  those  who  are  about  to  read 
this  new  presentation  in  English  will  find.  Let  it  only  be 
repeated,  that  if  the  rarest  and  strangest  charms  which  Balzac 
can  produce  are  elsewhere,  nowhere  else  is  his  charm  pre- 
sented in  a  more  pervading  and  satisfactory  manner. 

In  "  M.  Gobseck  "  we  find  the  hero  quite  interesting,  the 
story  of  Derville  and  Fanny  escapes  mawkishness,  and  all  the 
scenes  in  which  the  Restauds  and  Maxime  de  Trailles  figure 
are  admirably  done  and  well  worth  reading.  It  is  not  neces- 
sary to  take  into  consideration  the  important  part  which  the 
Dutch  Jew's  grand-daughter  or  grandniece,  Esther,  afterwards 
plays  in  the  "Com6die."     He  is  good  in  himself,  and  a 


PREFACE.  xUl 

famous  addition  to  Balzac's  gallery  of  misers,  the  most  inter- 
esting, if  not  the  most  authentic,  ever  arranged  on  that  curious 
subject. 

"  M.  Gobseck  "  was  a  **  Scdne  de  la  vie  Privde  "  from  the 
first  use  of  that  title  in  1830.  Its  own  title,  however,  "Les 
Dangers  de  I'lnconduit,"  and  "Papa  Gobseck"  varied  a 
little,  and  it  once  made  an  excursion  to  the  "  Scenes  de  la  vie 
Parisienne,"  but  returned. 

"Father  Goriot "  originally  appeared  as  a  book  in  1835, 
published  by  Werdet  and  Spahmann,  in  two  volumes.  It  had, 
however,  appeared  serially  in  the  Revue  de  Paris  during  the 
previous  winter.  The  first  and  some  subsequent  editions  had 
seven  chapter-divisions,  six  of  them  headed.  These,  accord- 
ing to  Balzac's  usual  practice,  were  swept  away  when  the  book 
became,  in  1843,  P^^*^  of  ^^^  "  Scenes  de  la  vie  Parisienne" 
and  the  "  ComMie  "  itself  The  transferrence  to  the  "Vie 
Priv6e,"  which  is  accomplished  in  the  "  Edition  Definitive," 
was  only  executed  in  accordance  with  notes  found  after 
Balzac's  death,  and  is  far  from  happy,  the  book  being  essen- 
tially Parisian. 

G.  S. 


FATHER  GORIOT. 

To  the  great  and  illustrious  Geoffrey  Saint- 
Hilaire,  a  token  of  adtniration  for  his  works 
and  genius. 

De  Balzac. 

Mme.  Vauquer  {nee  de  Conflans)  is  an  elderly  person,  who 
for  the  past  forty  years  has  kept  a  lodging-house  in  the  Rue 
Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  in  the  district  that  lies  between  the 
Latin  Quarter  and  the  Faubourg-Saint-Marcel.  Her  house 
(known  in  the  neighborhood  as  the  Maison  Vauquer)  receives 
men  and  women,  old  and  young,  and  no  word  has  ever  been 
breathed  against  her  respectable  establishment ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  it  must  be  said  that  as  a  matter  of  fact  no  young 
woman  has  been  under  her  roof  for  thirty  years,  and  that  if  a 
young  man  stays  there  for  any  length  of  time  it  is  a  sure  sign 
that  his  allowance  must  be  of  the  slenderest.  In  1819,  how- 
aver,  the  time  when  this  drama  opens,  there  was  an  almost 
penniless  young  girl  among  Mme.  Vauquer's  boarders. 

That  word  drama  has  been  somewhat  discredited  of  late ; 
it  has  been  overworked  and  twisted  to  strange  uses  in  these 
days  of  dolorous  literature  ;  but  it  must  do  service  again  here, 
not  because  this  story  is  dramatic  in  the  restricted  sense  of 
the  word,  but  because  some  tears  may  perhaps  be  shed  intra 
et  extra  muros  before  it  is  over. 

Will  any  one  without  the  walls  of  Paris  understand  it  ?  It 
is  open  to  doubt.  The  only  audience  who  could  appreciate 
the  results  of  close  observation,  the  careful  reproduction  of 
minute  detail  and  local  color,  are  dwellers  between  the  heights 
of  Montrouge  and  Montmartre,  in  a  vale  of  crumbling  stucco 
watered  by  streams  of  black  mud,  a  vale  of  sorrows  which 
are  real  and  of  joys  too  often  hollow ;  but  this  audience  is  so 
(1) 


2  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

accustomed  to  terrible  sensations,  that  only  some  unimaginable 
and  well-nigh  impossible  woe  could  produce  any  lasting 
impression  there.  Now  and  again  there  are  tragedies  so 
awful  and  so  grand  by  reason  of  the  complication  of  virtues 
and  vices  that  bring  them  about,  that  egoism  and  selfishness 
are  forced  to  pause  and  are  moved  to  pity;  but  the  impression 
that  they  receive  is  like  a  luscious  fruit,  soon  consumed. 
Civilization,  like  the  car  of  Juggernaut,  is  scarcely  stayed 
perceptibly  in  its  progress  by  a  heart  less  easy  to  break  than 
the  others  that  lie  in  its  course ;  this  also  is  broken,  and 
civilization  continues  on  her  course  triumphant.  And  you, 
too,  will  do  the  like ;  you  who  with  this  book  in  your  white 
hand  will  sink  back  among  the  cushions  of  your  armchair, 
and  say  to  yourself,  "Perhaps  this  may  amuse  me."  You 
will  read  the  story  of  Father  Goriot's  secret  woes,  and,  dining 
thereafter  with  an  unspoiled  appetite,  will  lay  the  blame  of 
your  insensibility  upon  the  writer,  and  accuse  him  of  exagger- 
ation, of  writing  romances.  Ah !  once  for  all,  this  drama  is 
neither  a  fiction  nor  a  romance !  All  is  true — so  true,  that 
every  one  can  discern  the  elements  of  the  tragedy  in  his  own 
house,  perhaps  in  his  own  heart. 

The  lodging-house  is  Mme.  Vauquer's  own  property.  It  is 
still  standing  at  the  lower  end  of  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte- 
Genevidve,  just  where  the  road  slopes  so  sharply  down  to  the 
Rue  de  I'Arbaldte,  that  wheeled  traffic  seldom  passes  that 
way,  because  it  is  so  stony  and  steep.  This  position  is  suffi- 
cient to  account  for  the  silence  prevalent  in  the  streets  shut 
in  between  the  dome  of  the  Pantheon  and  the  dome  of  the 
Val-de  Grace,  two  conspicuous  public  buildings  which  give  a 
yellowish  tone  to  the  landscape  and  darken  the  whole  district 
that  lies  beneath  the  shadow  of  their  leaden-hued  cupolas. 

In  that  district  the  pavements  are  clean  and  dry,  there  is 
neither  mud  nor  water  in  the  gutters,  grass  grows  in  the  chinks 
of  the  walls.  The  most  heedless  passer-by  feels  the  depressing 
influences  of  a  place  where  the  sound  of  wheels  creates  a  sen- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  3 

sation  ;  there  is  a  grim  look  about  the  houses,  a.  suggestion  of 
a  jail  about  those  high  garden  walls.  A  Parisian  straying 
Into  a  suBufb  apparently  composed  of  lodging-houses  and 
public  institutions  would  see  poverty  and  dulness,  old  age 
lying  down  to  die,  and  joyous  youth  condemned  to  drudgery. 
It  is  tlie  ugliest  quarter  of  Paris,  and,  it  may  be  added,  the 
least  known.  But,  before  all  things,  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte- 
Genevieve  is  like  a  bronze  frame  for  a  picture  for  which  the 
mind  cannot  be  too  well  prepared  by  the  contemplation  of  sad 
hues  and  sober  images.  Even  so,  step  by  step  the  daylight 
decreases,  and  the  cicerone's  droning  voice  grows  hollower  as 
the  traveler  descends  into  the  catacombs.  The  comparison 
holds  good  !  Who  shall  say  which  is  more  ghastly,  the  sight 
of  the  bleached  skulls  or  of  dried-up  human  hearts? 

The  front  of  the  lodging-house  is  at  right-angles  to  the 
road,  and  looks  out  upon  a  little  garden,  so  that  you  see  the 
side  of  the  house  in  section,  as  it  were,  from  the  Rue  Neuve- 
Sainte-Genevieve.  Beneath  the  wall  of  the  house-front  there 
lies  a  channel,  a  fathom  wide,  paved  with  cobble-stones,  and 
beside  it  runs  a  graveled  walk  bordered  by  geraniums  and 
oleanders  and  pomegranates  set  in  great  blue  and  white  glazed 
earthenware  pots.  Access  into  the  graveled  walk  is  afforded 
by  a  door,  above  which  the  words  Maison  Vauquer  may  be 
read,  and  beneath,  in  rather  smaller  letters,  ''  Lodgings  for  both 
sexes,  etc^ 

During  the  day  a  glimpse  into  the  garden  is  easily  obtained 
through  a  wicket  to  which  a  bell  is  attached.  On  the  oppo- 
site wall,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  graveled  walk,  a  green 
marble  arch  was  painted  once  upon  a  time  by  a  local  artist,. 
and  in  this  semblance  of  a  shrine  a  statue  representing  Cupid 
is  installed  ;  a  Parisian  Cupid,  so  blistered  and  disfigured  that 
he  looks  like  a  candidate  for  one  of  the  adjacent  hospitals,  and 
might  suggest  an  allegory  to  lovers  of  symbolism.  The  half- 
obliterated  inscription  on  the  pedestal  beneath  determines  the 


4  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

date  of  this  work  of  art,  for  it  bears  witness  to  the  wide- 
spread enthusiasm  felt  for  Voltaire  on  his  return  to  Paris 
in  1777 — 

"  Whoe'er  thou  art,  thy  master  see  ; 
He  is,  or  was,  or  ought  to  be." 

At  night  the  wicket  gate  is  replaced  by  a  solid  door.  The 
little  garden  is  no  wider  than  the  front  of  the  house  ;  it  is  shut 
in  between  the  wall  of  the  street  and  the  partition  wall  of  the 
neighboring  house.  A  mantle  of  ivy  conceals  the  bricks  and 
attracts  the  eyes  of  passers-by  to  an  effect  which  is  picturesque 
in  Paris,  for  each  of  the  walls  is  covered  with  trellised  vines 
that  yield  a  scanty,  dusty  crop  of  fruit,  and  furnish  besides 
a  subject  of  conversation  for  Mme.  Vauquer  and  her  lodgers ; 
every  year  the  widow  trembles  for  her  vintage. 

A  straight  path  beneath  the  walls  on  either  side  of  the 
garden  leads  to  a  clump  of  lime  trees  at  the  farther  end  of 
it  \  line  trees,  as  Mme.  Vauquer  persists  in  calling  them,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  de  Conflans,  and  regardless 
of  repeated  corrections  from  her  lodgers. 

The  central  space  between  the  walks  is  filled  with  artichokes 
and  rows  of  pyramid  fruit-trees,  and  surrounded  by  a  border 
of  lettuce,  potherbs,  and  parsley.  Under  the  lime  trees  there 
are  a  few  green-painted  garden  seats  and  a  wooden  table,  and 
hither,  during  the  dog-days,  such  of  the  lodgers  as  are  rich 
enough  to  indulge  in  a  cup  of  coffee  come  to  take  their  pleasure, 
though  it  is  hot  enough  to  roast  eggs  even  in  the  shade. 

The  house  itself  is  three  stories  high,  without  counting  the 
attics  under  the  roof.  It  is  built  of  rough  stone,  and  covered 
with  the  yellowish  stucco  that  gives  a  mean  appearance  to 
almost  every  house  in  Paris.  There  are  five  windows  in  each 
story  in  the  front  of  the  house ;  all  the  blinds  visible  through 
tlie  small  square  panes  are  drawn  up  awry,  so  that  the  lines 
are  all  at  cross- purposes.  At  the  side  of  the  house  there  are 
but  two  windows  on  eacli  floor,  and  the  lowest  of  all  are 
adorned  with  a  heavy  iron  grating. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  5 

Behind  the  house  a  yard  extends  for  some  twenty  feet,  a 
space  inhabited  by  a  happy  family  of  pigs,  poultry,  and  rab- 
bits ;  the  wood-shed  is  situated  on  the  farther  side,  and  on  the 
wall  between  the  wood-shed  and  the  kitchen  window  hangs 
the  meat-safe,  just  above  the  place  where  the  sink  discharges 
its  greasy  streams.  The  cook  sweeps  all  the  refuse  out  through 
a  little  door  into  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  and  fre- 
quently cleanses  the  yard  with  copious  supplies  of  water, 
under  pain  of  pestilence. 

The  house  might  have  been  built  on  purpose  for  its  present 
uses.  Access  is  given  by  a  French  window  to  the  first  room 
on  the  ground  floor,  a  sitting-room  which  looks  out  upon  the 
street  through  the  two  barred  windows  already  mentioned. 
Another  door  opens  out  of  it  into  the  dining-room,  which  is 
separated  from  the  kitchen  by  the  wall  of  the  staircase,  the 
steps  being  constructed  partly  of  wood,  partly  of  tiles,  which 
are  colored  and  beeswaxed.  Nothing  can  be  more  depressing 
than  the  sight  of  that  sitting-room.  The  furniture  is  covered 
with  horsehair  woven  in  alternate  dull  and  glossy  stripes. 
There  is  a  round  table  in  the  middle,  with  a  purplish-red 
marble  top,  on  which  there  stands,  by  way  of  ornament,  the 
inevitable  white  china  tea-service,  covered  with  a  half-effaced 
gilt  network.  The  floor  is  sufficiently  uneven,  the  wainscot 
rises  to  elbow  height,  and  the  rest  of  the  wall  space  is  deco- 
rated with  a  varnished  paper,  on  which  the  principal  scenes 
from  Telemaque  are  depicted,  the  various  classical  personages 
being  colored.  The  subject  between  the  two  windows  is  the 
banquet  given  by  Calypso  to  the  son  of  Ulysses,  displayed 
thereon  for  the  admiration  of  the  boarders,  and  has  furnished 
jokes  these  forty  years  to  the  young  men  who  show  themselves 
superior  to  their  position  by  making  fun  of  the  dinners  to 
which  poverty  condemns  them.  The  hearth  is  always  so  clean 
and  neat  that  it  is  evident  that  a  fire  is  only  kindled  there  on 
great  occasions;  the  stone  chimney-piece  is  adorned  by  a 
couple  of  vases  filled  with  faded  artificial  flowers  imprisoned 


6  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

under  glass  shades,  on  either  side  of  a  bluish-marble  clock  in 
the  very  worst  taste. 

The  first  room  exhales  an  odor  for  which  there  is  no  name 
in  the  language,  and  which  should  be  called  the  odeur  de  pen- 
sion. The  damp  atmosphere  sends  a  chill  through  you  as  you 
breathe  it ;  it  has  a  stuffy,  musty,  and  rancid  quality  ;  it  per- 
meates your  clothing  ;  after-dinner  scents  seem  to  be  mingled 
in  it  with  smells  from  the  kitchen  and  scullery  and  the  reek 
of  a  hospital.  It  might  be  possible  to  describe  it  if  some  one 
should  discover  a  process  by  which  to  distil  from  the  atmo- 
spliere  all  the  nauseating  elements  with  which  it  is  charged  by 
the  catarrhal  exhalations  of  every  individual  lodger,  young  or 
old.  Yet,  in  spite  of  these  stale  horrors,  the  sitting-room  is  as 
charming  and  as  delicately  perfumed  as  a  boudoir,  when  com- 
pared with  the  adjoining  dining-room. 

The  paneled  walls  of  that  apartment  were  once  painted 
some  color,  now  a  matter  of  conjecture,  for  the  surface  is 
incrusted  with  accumulated  layers  of  grimy  deposit,  which 
cover  it  with  fantastic  outlines.  A  collection  of  dim-ribbed 
glass  decanters,  metal  discs  with  a  satin  sheen  on  them,  and 
piles  of  blue-edged  earthenware  plates  of  Touraine  ware  cover 
the  sticky  surfaces  of  the  sideboards  that  line  the  room.  In  a 
corner  stands  a  box  containing  a  set  of  numbered  pigeon-holes, 
in  which  the  lodgers'  table  napkins,  more  or  less  soiled  and 
stained  with  wine,  are  kept.  Here  you  see  that  indestructible 
furniture  never  met  with  elsewhere,  which  finds  its  way  into 
lodging-houses  much  as  the  wrecks  of  our  civilization  drift 
into  hospitals  for  incurables.  You  expect  in  such  places  as 
these  to  find  the  weather-house  whence  a  Capuchin  issues  on 
wet  days  ;  you  look  to  find  the  execrable  engravings  which 
spoil  your  appetite,  framed  every  one  in  a  black  varnished 
frame,  with  a  gilt  beading  round  it  j  you  know  the  sort  of 
tortoise-shell  clock-case,  inlaid  with  brass;  the  green  stove,  the 
Argand  lamps,  covered  with  oil  and  dust,  have  met  your  eyes 
before.     The  oilcloth  which  covers  the  long  table  is  so  greasy 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  7 

that  a  waggish  outsider  will  write  his  name  on  the  surface, 
using  his  thumb-nail  as  a  style.  The  chairs  are  broken-down 
invalids ;  the  wretched  little  hempen  mats  slip  away  from 
under  your  feet  without  slipping  away  for  good ;  and,  finally, 
the  foot-warmers  are  miserable  wrecks,  hingeless,  charred, 
broken  away  about  the  holes.  It  would  be  impossible  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  old,  rotten,  shaky,  cranky,  worm-eaten,  halt, 
maimed,  one-eyed,  rickety,  and  ramshackle  condition  of  the 
furniture  without  an  exhaustive  description,  which  would 
delay  the  progress  of  the  story  to  an  extent  that  impatient 
people  would  not  pardon.  The  red  tiles  of  the  floor  are  full 
of  depressions  brought  about  by  scouring  and  periodical 
renewings  of  color.  In  short,  there  is  no  illusory  grace  left 
to  the  poverty  that  reigns  here  ;  it  is  dire,  parsimonious,  con- 
centrated, threadbare  poverty  ;  as  yet  it  has  not  sunk  into  the 
mire,  it  is  only  splashed  by  it,  and,  though  not  in  rags  as  yet, 
its  clothing  is  ready  to  drop  to  pieces. 

This  apartment  is  in  all  its  glory  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  Mme.  Vauquer's  cat  appears,  announcing  the 
near  approach  of  his  mistress,  and  jumps  upon  the  sideboards 
to  sniff  at  the  milk  in  the  bowls,  each  protected  by  a  plate, 
while  he  purrs  his  morning  greeting  to  the  world.  A  moment 
later  the  widow  shows  her  face ;  she  is  tricked  out  in  a  net 
cap  attached  to  a  false  front  set  on  awry,  and  shuffles  into  the 
room  in  her  slipshod  fashion.  She  is  an  oldish  woman,  with 
a  bloated  countenance,  and  a  nose  like  a  parrot's  beak  set  in 
the  middle  of  it ;  her  fat  little  hands  (she  is  as  sleek  as  a 
church  rat)  and  her  shapeless,  slouching  figure  are  in  keeping 
with  the  room  that  reeks  of  misfortune,  where  hope  is  reduced 
to  speculate  for  the  meanest  stakes.  Mme.  Vauquer  alone  can 
breathe  that  tainted  air  without  being  disheartened  by  it. 
Her  face  is  as  fresh  as  a  frosty  morning  in  autumn  ;  there  are 
wrinkles  about  the  eyes  that  vary  in  their  expression  from  the 
set  smile  of  a  ballet-dancer  to  the  dark,  suspicious  scowl  of  a 
discounter  of  bills ;  in  short,  she  is  at  once  the  embodiment 


8  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

and  interpretation  of  her  lodging-house,  as  surely  as  her 
lodging-house  implies  the  existence  of  its  mistress.  You  can 
no  more  imagine  the  one  without  the  other,  than  you  can 
think  of  a  jail  without  a  turnkey.  The  unwholesome  corpu- 
lence of  the  little  woman  is  produced  by  the  life  she  leads, 
just  as  typhus  fever  is  bred  in  the  tainted  air  of  a  hospital. 
The  very  knitted  woolen  petticoat  that  she  wears  beneath  a 
skirt  made  of  an  old  gown,  with  the  wadding  protruding 
through  the  rents  in  the  material,  is  a  sort  of  epitome  of  the 
sitting-room,  the  dining-room,  and  the  little  garden ;  it  dis- 
covers the  cook ;  it  foreshadows  the  lodgers — the  picture  of 
the  house  is  completed  by  the  portrait  of  its  mistress. 

Mme.  Vauquer  at  the  age  of  fifty  is  like  all  women  who 
"have  seen  a  deal  of  trouble."  She  has  the  glassy  eyes  and 
innocent  air  of  a  tiafficker  in  flesh  and  blood,  who  will  wax 
virtuously  indignant  to  obtain  a  higher  price  for  her  services, 
but  who  is  quite  ready  to  betray  a  Georges  or  a  Pichegru,  if  a 
Georges  or  a  Pichegru  were  in  hiding  and  still  to  be  be- 
trayed, or  for  any  other  expedient  that  may  alleviate  her  lot. 
Still,  "she  is  a  good  woman  at  bottom,"  said  the  lodgers, 
who  believed  that  the  widow  was  wholly  dependent  upon  the 
money  that  they  paid  her,  and  sympathized  when  they  heard 
her  cough  and  groan  like  one  of  themselves. 

What  had  M.  Vauquer  been  ?  The  lady  was  never  very  ex- 
plicit on  this  head.  How  had  she  lost  her  money  ?  "  Through 
trouble,"  was  her  answer.  He  had  treated  her  badly,  had 
left  her  nothing  but  her  eyes  to  cry  over  his  cruelty,  the  house 
she  lived  in,  and  the  privilege  of  pitying  nobody,  because,  so 
she  was  wont  to  say,  she  herself  had  been  through  every  possi- 
ble misfortune. 

Sylvie,  the  stout  cook,  hearing  her  mistress'  shuffling  foot- 
steps, hastened  to  serve  the  lodgers'  breakfast.  Besides  those 
who  lived  in  the  house,  Mme.  Vauquer  took  boarders  who 
came  for  their  meals ;  but  these  outsiders  usually  only  came  to 
dinner,  for  which  they  paid  thirty  francs  a  month. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  9 

At  the  time  when  this  story  begins,  the  lodging-house  con- 
tained seven  inmates.  The  best  rooms  in  the  house  were  on 
the  first  story,  Mme.  Vauquer  herself  occupying  the  least 
important,  while  the  rest  were  let  to  a  Mme.  Couture,  the 
widow  of  a  commissary-general  in  the  service  of  the  Republic. 
With  her  lived  Victorine  Taillefer,  a  school-girl,  to  whom  she 
filled  the  place  of  mother.  These  two  ladies  paid  eighteen 
hundred  francs  a  year. 

The  two  sets  of  rooms  on  the  second  floor  were  respectively 
occupied  by  an  old  man  named  Poiret  and  a  man  of  forty  or 
thereabouts,  the  wearer  of  a  black  wig  and  dyed  whiskers, 
who  gave  out  that  he  was  a  retired  merchant,  and  was  addressed 
as  M.  Vautrin.  Two  of  the  four  rooms  on  the  third  floor 
were  also  let — one  to  an  elderly  spinster,  a  Mile.  Michonneau, 
and  the  other  to  a  retired  manufacturer  of  vermicelli,  Italian 
paste  and  starch,  who  allowed  the  others  to  address  him  as 
"Father  Goriot."  The  remaining  rooms  were  allotted  to 
various  birds  of  passage,  to  impecunious  students,  who,  like 
"Father  Goriot"  and  Mile.  Michonneau,  could  only  muster 
forty-five  francs  a  month  to  pay  for  their  board  and  lodging. 
Mme.  Vauquer  had  little  desire  for  lodgers  of  this  sort ;  they 
ate  too  much  bread,  and  she  only  took  them  in  default  of 
better. 

At  that  time  one  of  the  rooms  was  tenanted  by  a  law  stu- 
dent, a  young  man  from  the  neighborhood  of  Angoul&me,  one 
of  a  large  family  who  pinched  and  starved  themselves  to  spare 
twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  for  him.  Misfortune  had  accus- 
tomed Eugene  de  Rastignac,  for  that  was  his  name,  to  work. 
He  belonged  to  the  number  of  young  men  who  know  as 
children  that  their  parents'  hopes  are  centred  on  them,  and 
deliberately  prepare  themselves  for  a  great  career,  subordin- 
ating their  studies  from  the  first  to  this  end,  carefully  watch- 
ing the  indications  of  the  course  of  events,  calculating  the 
probable  turn  that  affairs  will  take,  that  they  may  be  the  first 
to  profit  by  them.     But  for  his  observant  curiosity,  and  the 


10  FATHER    GORIOT. 

skill  with  which  he  managed  to  introduce  himself  into  the 
salons  of  Paris,  this  story  would  not  have  been  colored  by 
the  tones  of  truth  which  it  certainly  owes  to  him,  for  they 
are  entirely  due  to  his  penetrating  sagacity  and  desire  to  fathom 
the  mysteries  of  an  appalling  condition  of  things  which  was 
concealed  as  carefully  by  the  victim  as  by  those  who  had 
brought  it  to  pass. 

Above  the  third  story  there  was  a  garret  where  the  linen  was 
hung  to  dry,  and  a  couple  of  attics.  Christophe,  the  man-of- 
all-work,  slept  in  one,  and  Sylvie,  the  stout  cook,  in  the  other. 
Besides  the  seven  inmates  thus  enumerated,  taking  one  year 
with  another,  some  eight  law  or  medical  students  dined  in  the 
house,  as  well  as  two  or  three  regular  comers  who  lived  in  the 
neighborhood.  There  were  usually  eighteen  people  at  dinner, 
and  there  was  room,  if  need  be,  for  twenty  at  Mme.  Vauquer's 
table  ;  at  breakfast,  however,  only  the  seven  lodgers  appeared. 
It  was  almost  like  a  family  party.  Every  one  came  down  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  the  conversation  usually 
turned  on  anything  that  had  happened  the  evening  before ; 
comments  on  the  dress  or  appearance  of  the  dinner  contin- 
gent were  exchanged  in  friendly  confidence. 

These  seven  lodgers  were  Mme.  Vauquer's  spoiled  children. 
Among  them  she  distributed,  with  astronomical  precision,  the 
exact  proportion  of  respect  and  attention  due  to  the  varying 
amounts  they  paid  for  their  board.  One  single  consideration 
influenced  all  these  human  beings  thrown  together  by  chance. 
The  two  second-floor  lodgers  only  paid  seventy-two  francs  a 
month.  Such  prices  as  these  are  confined  to  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Marcel  and  the  district  between  La  Bourbe  and  the 
SalpStridre  ;  and,  as  might  be  expected,  poverty,  more  or  less 
apparent,  weighed  upon  them  all,  Mme.  Couture  being  the 
sole  exception  to  the  rule. 

The  dreary  surroundings  were  reflected  in  the  costumes  of 
the  inmates  of  the  house ;  all  were  alike  threadbare.  The 
color  of  the  men's  coats  was  problematical;   such  shoes,  in 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  U 

more  fashionable  quarters,  are  only  to  be  seen  lying  in  the 
gutter ;  the  cuffs  and  collars  were  worn  and  frayed  at  the 
edges;  every  limp  article  of  clothing  looked  like  the  ghost  of 
its  former  self  The  women's  dresses  were  faded,  old-fash- 
ioned, dyed  and  re-dyed  ;  they  wore  gloves  that  were  glazed 
with  hard  wear,  much-mended  lace,  dingy  ruffles,  crumpled 
muslin  fichus.  So  much  for  their  clothing  ;  but,  for  the  most 
part,  their  frames  were  solid  enough  ;  their  constitutions  had 
weathered  the  storms  of  life  ;  their  cold,  hard  faces  were  worn 
like  coins  that  have  been  withdrawn  from  circulation,  but 
there  were  greedy  teeth  behind  the  withered  lips.  Dramas 
brought  to  a  close  or  still  in  progress  are  foreshadowed  by  the 
sight  of  such  actors  as  these,  not  the  dramas  that  are  played 
before  the  footlights  and  against  a  background  of  painted 
canvas,  but  dumb  dramas  of  life  frost-bound  dramas  that  sear 
hearts  like  fire,  dramas  that  do  not  end  with  the  actors'  lives. 
Mile.  Michonneau,  that  elderly  young  lady,  screened  her 
weak  eyes  from  the  daylight  by  a  soiled  green  silk  shade  with 
a  rim  of  brass,  an  object  fit  to  scare  away  the  Angel  of  Pity 
himself.  Her  shawl,  with  its  scanty,  draggled  fringe,  might 
have  covered  a  skeleton,  so  meagre  and  angular  was  the  form 
beneath  it.  Yet  she  must  have  been  pretty  and  shapely  once. 
What  corrosive  had  destroyed  the  feminine  outlines?  Was  it 
trouble,  or  vice,  or  greed  ?  Had  she  loved  too  well  ?  Had 
she  been  a  second-hand  clothes  dealer,  a  frequenter  of  the 
back-stairs  of  great  houses,  or  had  she  been  merely  a  courtesan  ? 
Was  she  expiating  the  flaunting  triumphs  of  a  youth  over- 
crowded with  pleasures  by  an  old  age  in  which  she  was 
shunned  by  every  passer-by?  Her  vacant  gaze  sent  a  chill 
through  you  ;  her  shriveled  face  seemed  like  a  menace.  Her 
voice  was  like  the  shrill,  thin  note  of  the  grasshopper  sound- 
ing from  the  thicket  when  winter  is  at  hand.  She  said  that  she 
had  nursed  an  old  gentleman,  ill  of  catarrh  of  the  bladder, 
and  left  to  die  by  his  children,  who  thought  that  he  had 
nothing  left.     His  bequest  to  her,  a  life  annuity  of  a  thousand 


12  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

francs,  was  periodically  disputed  by  his  heirs,  who  mingled 
slander  with  their  persecutions.  In  spite  of  the  ravages  of 
conflicting  passions,  her  face  retained  some  traces  of  its  former 
fairness  and  fineness  of  tissue,  some  vestiges  of  the  physical 
charms  of  her  youth  still  survived. 

M.  Poiret  was  a  sort  of  automaton.  He  might  be  seen  any 
day  sailing  like  a  gray  shadow  along  the  walks  of  the  Jardin 
des  Plantes,  on  his  head  a  shabby  cap,  a  cane  with  an  old 
yellow  ivory  handle  in  the  tips  of  his  thin  fingers;  the  out- 
spread skirts  of  his  threadbare  overcoat  failed  to  conceal  his 
meagre  figure;  his  breeches  hung  loosely  on  his  shrunken 
limbs ;  the  thin,  blue-stockinged  legs  trembled  like  those  of  a 
drunken  man  ;  there  was  a  notable  breach  of  continuity 
between  the  dingy  white  waistcoat  and  crumpled  shirt  frills 
and  the  cravat  twisted  about  a  throat  like  a  turkey  gobler's; 
altogether,  his  appearance  set  people  wondering  whether  this 
outlandish  ghost  belonged  to  the  audacious  race  of  the  sons 
of  Japhet  who  flutter  about  on  the  Boulevard  Italien.  What 
kind  of  toil  could  have  so  shriveled  him?  What  devouring 
passions  had  darkened  that  bulbous  countenance,  which  would 
have  seemed  outrageous  as  a  caricature  ?  What  had  he  been  ? 
Well,  perhaps  he  had  been  part  of  the  machinery  of  justice,  a 
clerk  in  the  office  to  which  the  executioner  sends  in  his  ac- 
counts— so  much  for  providing  black  veils  for  parricides,  so 
much  for  sawdust,  so  much  for  pulleys  and  cord  for  the  knife. 
Or  he  might  have  been  a  receiver  at  the  door  of  a  public 
slaughter-house,  or  a  sub-inspector  of  nuisances.  Indeed,  the 
man  appeared  to  have  been  one  of  the  beasts  of  burden  in  our 
great  social  mill ;  one  of  those  Parisian  ratons  whom  their 
Bertrands  do  not  even  know  by  sight ;  a  pivot  in  the  obscure 
machinery  that  disposes  of  misery  and  things  unclean ;  one 
of  those  men,  in  short,  at  sight  of  whom  we  are  prompted  to 
remark  that,  "After  all,  we  cannot  do  without  them." 

Stately  Paris  ignores  the  existence  of  these  faces  bleached 
by  moral  or  physical  suffering;  but,  then,  Paris  is  in  truth  an 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  13 

ocean  that  no  line  can  fathom.  You  may  survey  its  surface 
and  describe  \K ;  but  no  matter  what  pains  you  take  with  your 
investigations  and  recognizances,  no  matter  how  numerous 
and  painstaking  the  toilers  in  this  sea,  there  will  always  be 
lonely  and  unexplored  regions  in  its  depths,  caverns  unknown, 
flowers  and  pearls  and  monsters  of  the  deep  overlooked  or 
forgotten  by  the  divers  of  literature.  The  Maison  Vauquer  is 
one  of  these  curious  nionstrosities. 

Two,  however,  of  Mme.  Vauquer' s  boarders  formed  a  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  rest.  There  was  a  sickly  pallor,  such  as  is 
often  seen  in  anaemic  girls,  in  Mile.  VictorineTaillefer's  face  ; 
and  her  unvarying  expression  of  sadness,  like  her  embarrassed 
manner  and  pinched  look,  was  in  keeping  with  the  general 
wretchedness  of  the  establishment  in  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte- 
Genevieve,  which  forms  a  background  to  this  picture  ;  but  her 
face  was  young,  there  was  youthfulness  in  her  voice  and  elas- 
ticity in  her  movements.  This  young  unfortunate  was  not 
unlike  a  shrub,  newly  planied  in  an  uncongenial  soil,  where 
its  leaves  have  already  begun  to  wither.  The  outlines  of  her 
figure,  revealed  by  her  dress  of  the  simplest  and  cheapest  mate- 
rials, were  also  youthful.  There  was  the  same  kind  of  charm 
about  her  too  slender  form,  her  faintly  colored  face  and  light- 
brown  hair,  that  modern  poets  find  in  mediaeval  statuettes; 
and  a  sweet  expression,  a  look  of  Christian  resignation  in  the 
dark-gray  eyes.  She  was  pretty  by  force  of  contrast ;  if  she 
had  been  happy,  she  would  have  been  charming.  Happiness 
is  the  poetry  of  woman,  as  the  toilet  is  her  tinsel.  If  the 
delightful  excitement  of  a  ball  had  made  tlie  pale  face  glow 
with  color;  if  the  delights  of  a  luxurious  life  had  brought 
the  color  to  the  wan  cheeks  that  were  slightly  hollowed 
already;  if  love  had  put  light  into  the  sad  eyes,  then  Victo- 
rine  might  have  ranked  among  the  fairest ;  but  she  lacked  the 
two  things  which  create  woman  a  second  time — pretty  dresses 
and  love-letters. 

A  book  might  have  been  made  of  her  story.     Her  father 


14  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

was  persuaded  that  he  had  sufficient  reason  for  declin- 
ing to  acknowledge  her,  and  allowed  her  a  bare  six  hundred 
francs  a  year ;  he  had  further  taken  measures  to  disinherit  his 
daughter,  and  had  converted  all  his  real  estate  into  personalty, 
that  he  might  leave  it  undivided  to  his  son.  Victorine's 
mother  had  died  broken-hearted  in  Mme.  Couture's  house ; 
and  the  latter,  who  was  a  near  relation,  had  taken  charge  of 
the  little  orphan.  Unluckily,  the  widow  of  the  commissary- 
general  to  the  armies  of  the  Republic  had  nothing  in  the 
world  but  her  jointure  and  her  widow's  pension,  and  some 
day  she  might  be  obliged  to  leave  the  helpless,  inexperienced 
girl  to  the  mercy  of  the  world.  The  good  soul,  therefore, 
took  Victorine  to  mass  every  Sunday,  and  to  confession  once 
a  fortnight,  thinking  that,  in  any  case,  she  would  bring  up  her 
ward  to  be  devout.  She  was  right ;  religion  offered  a  solution 
of  the  problem  of  the  young  girl's  future.  The  poor  child 
loved  the  father  who  refused  to  acknowledge  her.  Once  every 
year  she  tried  to  see  him  to  deliver  her  mother's  message  of 
forgiveness,  but  every  year  hitherto  she  had  knocked  at  that 
door  in  vain ;  her  father  was  inexorable.  Her  brother,  her 
only  means  of  communication,  had  not  come  to  see  her  for 
four  years,  and  had  sent  her  no  assistance  ;  yet  she  prayed  to 
God  to  unseal  her  father's  eyes  and  to  soften  her  brother's 
heart,  and  no  accusations  mingled  with  her  praj'ers.  Mme. 
Couture  and  Mme.  Vatiquer  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of 
abuse,  and  failed  to  find  words  that  did  justice  to  the  banker's 
iniquitous  conduct  j  but  while  they  heaped  execrations  on  the 
millionaire,  Victorine's  words  were  as  gentle  as  the  moan  of 
the  wounded  dove,  and  affection  found  expression  even  in 
the  cry  drawn  from  her  by  pain. 

Eugene  de  Rastignac  was  a  thoroughly  southern  type  ;  he 
had  a  fair  complexion,  blue  eyes,  black  hair.  In  his  figure, 
manner,  and  his  whole  bearing  it  was  easy  to  see  that  he 
either  came  of  a  noble  familv,  or  that,  from  his  earliest  child- 
hood, he  had  been  gently  bred.     If  he  was  careful  of  his 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  16 

wardrobe,  only  taking  last  year's  clothes  into  daily  wear,  still 
upon  occasion  he  could  issue  forth  as  a  young  man  of  fashion. 
Ordinarily  he  wore  a  shabby  coat  and  waistcoat,  the  limp 
black  cravat,  untidily  knotted,  that  students  affect,  trousers 
that  matched  the  rest  of  his  costume,  and  boots  that  had  been 
re-soled. 

Vautrin  (the  man  of  forty  with  the  dyed  whiskers)  marked 
a  transition  stage  between  these  two  young  people  and  the 
others.  He  was  the  kind  of  man  that  calls  forth  the  remark  : 
**  He  looks  a  jovial  sort !  "  He  had  broad  shoulders,  a  well- 
developed  chest,  muscular  arms,  and  strong  square-fisted 
hands ;  the  joints  of  his  fingers  were  covered  with  tufts  of 
fiery  red  hair.  His  face  was  furrowed  by  premature  wrinkles; 
there  was  a  certain  hardness  about  it  in  spite  of  his  bland  and 
insinuating  manner.  His  bass  voice  was  by  no  means  un- 
pleasant, and  was  in  keeping  with  his  boisterous  laughter. 
He  was  always  obliging,  always  in  good  spirits  ;  if  anything 
went  wrong  with  one  of  the  locks,  he  would  soon  unscrew  it, 
take  it  to  pieces,  file  it,  oil  and  clean  and  set  it  in  order,  and 
put  it  back  in  its  place  again  :  "  I  am  an  old  liand  at  it,"  he 
used  to  say.  Not  only  so,  he  knew  all  about  ships,  the  sea, 
France,  foreign  countries,  men,  business,  law,  great  houses 
and  prisons — there  was  nothing  that  he  did  not  know.  If 
any  one  complained  rather  more  than  usual,  he  would  offer 
his  services  at  once.  He  had  several  times  loaned  money  to 
Mme.  Vauquer,  or  to  the  boarders  ;  but,  somehow,  those  whom 
he  obliged  felt  that  they  would  sooner  face  death  than  fail  to 
repay  him  ;  a  certain  resolute  look,  sometimes  seen  on  his 
face,  inspired  fear  of  him,  for  all  his  appearance  of  easy  good- 
nature. In  the  way  he  spat  there  was  an  imperturbable  cool- 
ness which  seemed  to  indicate  that  this  was  a  man  who  would 
not  stop  at  a  crime  to  extricate  himself  from  a  false  position. 
His  eyes,  like  those  of  a  pitiless  judge,  seemed  to  go  to  the 
very  bottom  of  all  questions,  to  read  all  natures,  all  feelings, 
and  thoughts.     His  habit  of  life  was  very  regular ;  he  usually 


16;  FATHER   GORIOT. 

went  out  after  breakfast,  returning  in  time  for  dinner,  and 
disappeared  for  the  rest  of  the  evening,  letting  himself  in 
about  midnight  with  a  latch-key,  a  privilege  that  Mme.  Vau- 
quer  accorded  to  no  other  boarder.  But  then  he  was  on  very 
good  terms  with  the  widow;  he  used  to  call  her  "  mamma," 
and  put  his  arm  round  her  waist,  a  piece  of  flattery  perhaps 
not  appreciated  to  the  full  !  The  worthy  woman  might  im- 
agine this  to  be  an  easy  feat ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no  arm 
but  Vautrin's  was  long  enough  to  encircle  her. 

It  was  a  characteristic  trait  of  his  generosity  to  pay  fifteen 
francs  a  m6nth  for  the  cup  of  coff"ee  with  a  dash  of  brandy  in 
it,  which  he  took  after  dinner.  Less  superficial  observers 
than  young  men  engulfed  by  the  whirlpool  of  Parisian  life, 
or  old  men,  who  took  no  interest  in  anything  that  did 
not  directly  concern  them,  would  not  have  stopped  short 
at  the  vaguely  unsatisfactory  impression  that  Vautrin  made 
upon  them.  He  knew  or  guessed  the  concerns  of  every  one 
about  him ;  but  none  of  them  had  been  able  to  penetrate  his 
thoughts,  or  to  discover  his  occupation.  He  had  deliberately 
made  his  apparent  good-nature,  his  unfailing  readiness  to 
oblige,  and  his  high  spirits  into  a  barrier  between  himself  and 
the  rest  of  them,  but  not  seldom  he  gave  glimpses  of  appalling 
depths  of  character.  He  seemed  to  delight  in  scourging  the 
upper  class  of  society  with  the  lash  of  his  tongue,  to  take 
pleasure  in  convicting  it  of  inconsistency,  in  mocking  at  law 
and  order  with  some  grim  jest  worthy  of  Juvenal,  as  if  some 
grudge  against  the  social  system  rankled  in  him,  as  if  there 
were  some  mystery  carefully  hidden  away  in  his  life. 

Mile.  Taillefer  felt  attracted,  perhaps  unconsciously  by  the 
strength  of  the  one  man,  and  the  good  looks  of  the  other ; 
her  stolen  glances  and  secret  thoughts  were  divided  between 
them ;  but  neither  of  them  seemed  to  take  any  notice  of  her, 
although  some  day  a  chance  might  alter  her  position  and  she 
would  be  a  wealthy  heiress.  For  that  matter,  there  was  not  a 
soul  in  the  house  who  took  any  trouble  to  investigate  the  vari- 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  17 

ous  chronicles  of  misfortunes,  real  or  imaginary,  related  by  the 
rest.  Each  one  regarded  the  others  with  indifference,  tem- 
pered by  suspicion ;  it  was  the  natural  result  of  their  relative 
positions.  Practical  assistance  not  one  of  them  could  give, 
this  they  all  knew,  and  they  had  long  since  exhausted  their 
stock  of  condolence  over  previous  discussions  of  their  griev- 
ances. They  were  in  something  the  same  position  as  an 
elderly  couple  who  have  nothing  left  to  say  to  each  other. 
The  routine  of  existence  kept  them  in  contact,  but  they  were 
parts  of  a  mechanism  which  wanted  oil.  There  was  not  one 
of  them  but  would  have  passed  a  blind  man  begging  in  the 
street,  not  one  that  felt  moved  to  pity  by  a  tale  of  misfortune, 
not  one  that  did  not  see  in  death  the  solution  of  the  all-absorb- 
ing problem  of  misery  which  left  them  cold  to  the  most 
terrible  anguish  in  others. 

The  happiest  of  these  hapless  beings  was  certainly  Mme. 
Vauquer,  who  reigned  supreme  over  this  hospital  supported  by 
voluntary  contributions.  For  her  the  little  garden,  which 
silence,  and  cold,  and  rain  and  drought  combined  to  make  as 
dreary  as  an  Asian  steppe,  was  a  pleasant  shaded  nook  ;  the 
gaunt  yellow  house,  the  musty  odors  of  a  back  shop  had 
charms  for  her,  and  for  her  alone.  Those  cells  belonged  to 
her.  She  fed  those  convicts  condemned  to  penal  servitude  for 
life,  and  her  authority  was  recognized  among  them.  Where 
else  in  Paris  would  they  have  found  wholesome  food  in  suffi- 
cient quantity  at  the  prices  she  charged  them,  and  rooms 
which  they  were  at  liberty  to  make,  if  not  exactly  elegant 
or  comfortable,  at  any  rate,  clean  and  healthy?  If  she  had 
committed  some  flagrant  act  of  injustice,  the  victim  would 
have  borne  it  in  silence. 

Such  a  gathering  contained,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
the  elements  out  of  which  a  complete  society  might  be  con- 
stnicted.  And,  as  in  a  school,  as  in  the  world  itself,  there 
was  among  the  eighteen  men  and  women  who  met  round  the 
dinner  table  a  poor  creature,  despised  by  all  the  others, 
2 


1$  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

condemned  to  be  the  butt  of  all  their  jokes.  At  the  beginning 
of  Eugene  de  Rastignac's  second  twelvemonth,  this  figure 
suddenly  started  out  into  bold  relief  against  the  background 
of  human  forms  and  faces  among  which  the  law  student  was 
yet  to  live  for  another  two  years  to  come.  This  laughing- 
stock was  the  retired  vermicelli-merchant,  Father  Goriot, 
upon  whose  face  a  painter,  like  the  historian,  would  have 
concentrated  all  the  light  in  his  picture. 

How  had  it  come  about  that  the  boarders  regarded  him 
with  a  half-malignant  contempt  ?  Why  did  they  subject  the 
oldest  among  their  number  to  a  kind  of  persecution,  in  which 
there  was  mingled  some  pity,  but  no  respect  for  his  misfor- 
tunes ?  Had  he  brought  it  upon  himself  by  some  eccentricity 
or  absurdity,  which  is  less  easily  forgiven  or  forgotten  than 
more  serious  defects?  The  question  strikes  at  the  root  of 
many  a  social  injustice.  Perhaps  it  is  only  human  nature  to 
inflict  suffering  on  anything  that  will  endure  suffering,  whether 
by  reason  of  its  genuine  humility,  or  indifference,  or  sheer 
helplessness.  Do  we  not,  one  and  all,  like  to  feel  our  strength 
even  at  the  expense  of  some  one  or  of  something?  The 
poorest  sample  of  humanity,  the  street  arab,  will  pull  the  bell- 
handle  at  every  street-door  in  bitter  weather,  and  scramble 
up  to  write  his  name  on  the  unsullied  marble  of  a  monument. 

In  the  year  1813,  at  the  age  of  sixty-nine  or  thereabouts, 
"  Father  Goriot  "  had  sold  his  business  and  retired — to  Mme. 
Vauquer's  boarding-house.  When  he  first  came  there  he  had 
taken  the  rooms  now  occupied  by  Mme.  Couture;  he  had 
paid  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  like  a  man  to  whom  five 
louis  more  or  less  was  a  mere  trifle.  For  him  Mme.  Vauquer 
had  made  various  improvements  in  the  three  rooms  destined 
for  his  use,  in  consideration  of  a  certain  sum  paid  in  advance, 
so  it  was  said,  for  the  miserable  furniture,  that  is  to  say,  for 
some  yellow  cotton  curtains,  a  few  chairs  of  stained  wood 
covered  with  Utrecht  velvet,  several  wretchedly  colored  prints 
in  frames,  and  wall  papers  that  a  little  suburban  tavern  would 


FATHER    GORIOr.  19 

have  disdained.  Possibly  it  was  the  careless  generosity  with 
which  Father  Goriot  allowed  himself  to  be  overreached  at  this 
period  of  his  life  (they  called  him  Monsieur  Goriot  very 
respectfully  then)  that  gave  Mme.  Vauquer  the  meanest 
opinion  of  his  business  abilities  \  she  looked  on  him  as  an 
imbecile  where  money  was  concerned. 

Goriot  had  brought  with  him  a  considerable  wardrobe,  the 
gorgeous  outfit  of  a  retired  tradesman  who  denies  himself 
nothing.  Mme.  Vauquer's  astonished  eyes  beheld  no  less 
than  eighteen  cambric-fronted  shirts,  the  splendor  of  their 
fineness  being  enhanced  by  a  pair  of  pins  each  bearing  a  large 
diamond,  and  connected  by  a  short  chain,  an  ornament  which 
adorned  the  vermicelli-maker's  shirt-front.  He  usually  wore 
a  coat  of  cornflower  blue ;  his  rotund  and  portly  person 
was  still  further  set  off  by  a  clean  white  waistcoat,  and  a  gold 
chain  and  seals  which  dangled  over  that  broad  expanse. 
When  his  hostess  accused  him  of  being  "  a  bit  of  a  beau,"  he 
smiled  with  the  vanity  of  a  citizen  whose  foible  is  gratified. 
His  cupboards  {ormoires,  as  he  called  them  in  the  popular 
dialect)  were  filled  with  a  quantity  of  plate  that  he  brought 
with  him.  The  widow's  eyes  gleamed  as  she  obligingly  helped 
him  to  unpack  the  soup  ladles,  tablespoons,  forks,  cruet-stands, 
tureens,  dishes,  and  breakfast  services — all  of  silver — which 
were  duly  arranged  upon  the  shelves,  beside  a  few  more  or  less 
handsome  pieces  of  plate,  all  weighing  no  inconsiderable 
number  of  ounces ;  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  part  with 
these  gifts  that  reminded  him  of  past  domestic  festivals. 

"This  was  my  wife's  present  to  me  on  the  first  anniversary 
of  our  wedding-day,"  he  said  to  Mme.  Vauquer,  as  he  put 
away  a  little  silver  posset  dish,  with  two  turtle-doves  billing 
on  the  cover.  "  Poor  dear  !  she  spent  on  it  all  the  money 
she  had  saved  before  we  married.  Do  you  know,  I  would 
sooner  scratch  the  earth  with  my  nails  for  a  living,  madame, 
than  part  with  that.  But  I  shall  be  able  to  take  my  coffee  out 
of  it  every  morning  for  the  rest  of  my  days,  thank  the  Lord  I 


20  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

I  am  not  to  be  pitied.     There's  not  much  fear  of  my  starv- 
ing for  some  time  to  come. ' ' 

Finally,  Mme.  Vauquer's  magpie's  eye  had  discovered  and 
read  certain  entries  in  the  list  of  shareholders  in  the  funds, 
and,  after  a  rough  calculation,  was  disposed  to  credit  Goriot 
(worthy  man)  with  something  like  ten  thousand  francs  a  year. 
From  that  day  forward  Mme.  Vauquer  {nee  de  Conflans), 
who,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had  seen  forty-eight  summers,  though 
she  would  only  own  to  thirty-nine  of  them — Mme.  Vauquer 
had  her  own  ideas.  Though  Goriot's  eyes  seemed  to  have 
shrunk  in  their  sockets,  though  they  were  weak  and  watery, 
owing  to  some  glandular  affection  which  compelled  him  to 
wipe  them  continually,  she  considered  him  to  be  a  very 
gentlemanly  and  pleasant-looking  man.  Moreover,  the 
widow  saw  favorable  indications  of  character  in  the  well- 
developed  calves  of  his  legs  and  in  his  square-shaped  nose, 
indications  still  further  borne  out  by  the  worthy  man's  full- 
moon  countenance  and  look  of  stupid  good-nature.  This,  in 
all  probability,  was  a  strongly-built  animal,  whose  brains 
mostly  consisted  in  a  capacity  for  affection.  His  hair,  worn 
in  ailes  de  pigeon,  and  duly  powdered  every  morning  by  the 
barber  from  the  Ecole  Polytechnique,  described  five  points  on 
his  low  forehead,  and  made  an  elegantly  setting  to  his  face. 
Though  his  manners  were  somewhat  boorish,  he  was  always 
as  neat  as  a  new  pin,  and  he  took  his  snuff  in  a  lordly  way, 
like  a  man  who  knows  that  his  snuff-box  is  always  likely  to  be 
filled  with  maccaboy ;  so  that  when  Mme.  Vauquer  lay  down 
to  rest  on  the  day  of  M.  Goriot's  installation,  her  heart,  like 
a  larded  partridge,  sweltered  before  the  fire  of  a  burning 
desire  to  shake  off  the  shroud  of  Vauquer  and  rise  again  as 
Goriot.  She  would  marry  again,  sell  her  boarding-hoHse, 
give  her  hand  to  this  fine  flower  of  citizenship,  become  a  lady 
of  consequence  in  the  Quarter,  and  ask  for  subscriptions  for 
charitable  purposes ;  she  would  make  little  Sunday  excursions 
to   Choisy,    Soisy,    Gentilly;  she  would   have   a  box  at  the 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  21 

theatre  when  she  liked,  instead  of  waiting  for  the  author's 
tickets  that  one  of  her  boarders  sometimes  gave  her,  in  July  ; 
the  whole  Eldorado  of  a  little  Parisian  household  rose  up 
before  Mme.  Vauquer  in  her  dreams.  Nobody  knew  that  she 
herself  possessed  forty  thousand  francs,  accumulated  sou  by 
sou,  that  was  her  secret;  surely  as  far  as  money  was  concerned 
she  was  a  very  tolerable  match.  "And  in  other  respects,  I 
am  quite  his  equal,"  she  said  to  herself,  turning  as  if  to  assure 
herself  of  the  charms  of  a  form  that  the  portly  Sylvie  found 
moulded  in  down  feathers  every  morning. 

For  three  months  from  that  day  Mme.  Veuve  Vauquer 
availed  herself  of  the  services  of  M.  Goriot's  coiffeur,  and 
went  to  some  expense  over  her  toilet,  expense  justifiable  on 
the  ground  that  she  owed  it  to  herself  and  her  establishment  to 
pay  some  attention  to  appearances  when  such  highly  respectable 
persons  honored  her  house  with  their  presence.  She  expended 
no  small  amount  of  ingenuity  in  a  sort  of  weeding  process 
of  her  lodgers,  announcing  her  intention  of  receiving  hence- 
forward none  but  people  who  were  in  every  way  select.  If  a 
stranger  presented  himself,  she  let  him  know  that  M.  Goriot, 
one  of  the  best-known  and  most  highly  respected  merchants 
in  Paris,  had  singled  out  her  boarding-house  for  a  residence. 
She  drew  up  a  prospectus  headed  Maison  Vauquer,  in  which 
it  was  asserted  that  hers  was  "  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  highly 
recommended  boarding-houses  in  the  Latin  Quarter. "  "  From 
the  windows  of  the  house,"  thus  ran  the  prospectus,  "there 
is  a  charming  view  of  the  Valine  des  Gobelins  (so  there  is — 
from  the  third  floor),  and  a  beautiful  garden,  extending  down 
to  an  avenue  of  lindens  at  the  farther  end."  Mention  was 
made  of  the  bracing  air  of  the  place  and  its  quiet  situation. 

It  was  this  prospectus  that  attracted  Mme.  la  Comtesse  de 
I'Ambermesnil,  a  widow  of  six  and  thirty,  who  was  awaiting 
the  final  settlement  of  her  husband's  affairs,  and  of  another 
matter  regarding  a  pension  due  to  her  as  the  wife  of  a  general 
who  had  died  "  on  the  field  of  battle."     On  this  Mme.  Vau- 


22  FATHER   GORIOT. 

quer  saw  to  her  table,  lighted  a  fire  daily  in  the  sitting-room 
for  nearly  six  months,  and  kept  the  promise  of  her  prospectus, 
even  going  to  some  expense  to  do  so.  And  the  Countess,  on 
her  side,  addressed  Mme.  Vauquer  as  "my  dear,"  and  prom- 
ised her  two  more  boarders,  the  Baronne  de  Vaumerland  and 
the  widow  of  a  colonel,  the  late  Comte  de  Picquoisie,  who 
were  about  to  leave  a  boarding-house  in  the  Marais,  where  the 
terms  were  higher  than  at  the  Maison  Vauquer.  Both  these 
ladies,  moreover,  would  be  very  well  to  do  when  the  people 
at  the  War  Office  had  come  to  an  end  of  their  formalities. 
"But  government  departments  are  always  so  dilatory,"  the 
lady  added. 

After  dinner  the  two  widows  went  together  up  to  Mme. 
Vauquer' s  room,  and  had  a  snug  little  chat  over  some  cordial 
and  various  delicacies  reserved  for  the  mistress  of  the  house. 
Mme.  Vauquer's  ideas  as  to  Goriot  were  cordially  approved 
by  Mme.  de  I'Ambermesnil ;  it  was  a  capital  notion,  which 
for  that  matter  she  had  guessed  from  the  very  first ;  in  her 
opinion  the  vermicelli-maker  was  an  excellent  man. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  lady,  such  a  well-preserved  man  of  his  age, 
as  sound  as  my  eyesight — a  man  who  might  make  a  woman 
happy  !  "  said  the  widow. 

The  good-natured  Countess  turned  to  the  subject  of  Mme. 
Vauquer's  dress,  which  was  not  in  harmony  with  her  projects. 
*'  You  must  put  yourself  on  a  war  footing,"  said  she. 

After  much  serious  consideration  the  two  widows  went 
shopping  together — they  purchased  a  hat  adorned  with  ostrich 
feathers  and  a  cap  at  the  Palais  Royal,  and  the  Countess  took 
her  friend  to  the  Magasin  de  la  Petite  Jeannette,  where  they 
chose  a  dress  and  a  scarf.  Thus  equipped  for  the  campaign, 
the  widow  looked  exactly  like  the  prize  animal  hung  out  for 
a  sign  above  an  a  la  mode  beef-shop  ;  but  she  herself  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  improvement,  as  she  considered  it,  in 
her  appearance,  that  she  felt  that  she  lay  under  some  obliga- 
tion to  the  Countess ;  and,  though  by  no  means  open-handed, 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  23 

she  begged  that  lady  to  accept  a  hat  that  cost  twenty  francs. 
The  fact  was  that  she  needed  the  Countess'  services  on  the 
delicate  mission  of  sounding  Goriot ;  the  Countess  must  sing 
her  praises  in  his  ears.  Mme.  de  Ambermesnil  lent  herself 
very  good-naturedly  to  this  manoeuvre,  began  her  operations, 
and  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  private  interview ;  but  the  over- 
tures that  she  made,  with  a  view  to  securing  him  for  herself, 
were  received  with  embarrassment,  not  to  say  a  repulse.  She 
left  him,  revolted  by  his  coarseness. 

**  My  angel,"  said  she  to  her  dear  friend,  "  you  will  make 
nothing  of  that  man  yonder.  He  is  absurdly  suspicious,  and 
he  is  a  mean  curmudgeon,  an  idiot,  a  fool ;  you  would  never 
be  happy  with  him." 

After  what  had  passed  between  M.  Goriot  and  Mme.  de 
I'Ambermesnil,  the  Countess  would  no  longer  live  under  the 
same  roof.  She  left  the  next  day,  forgot  to  pay  for  six 
months'  board,  and  left  behind  her  her  wardrobe,  cast-off 
clothing  to  the  value  of  five  francs.  Eagerly  and  persistently 
as  Mme.  Vauquer  sought  her  quondam  lodger,  the  Comtesse 
de  I'Ambermesnil  was  never  heard  of  again  in  Paris.  The 
widow  often  talked  of  this  deplorable  business,  and  regretted 
her  own  too  confiding  disposition.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
was  as  suspicious  as  a  cat ;  but  she  was  like  many  other 
people,  who  cannot  trust  their  own  kin  and  put  themselves  at 
the  mercy  of  the  next  chance  comer — an  odd  but  common 
phenomenon,  whose  causes  may  readily  be  traced  to  the 
depths  of  the  human  heart. 

Perhaps  there  are  people  who  know  that  they  have  nothing 
more  to  look  for  from  those  with  whom  they  live  ;  they  have 
shown  the  emptiness  of  their  hearts  to  their  housemates,  and 
in  their  secret  selves  they  are  conscious  that  they  are  severely 
judged,  and  that  they  deserve  to  be  judged  severely  ;  but  still 
they  feel  an  unconquerable  craving  for  praises  that  they  do 
not  hear,  or  they  are  consuhied  by  a  desire  to  appear  to 
possess,  in  the  eyes  of  a  new  audience,  the  qualities  which 


24  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

they  have  not,  hoping  to  win  the  admiration  or  affection  of 
strangers  at  the  risk  of  forfeiting  it  again  some  day.  Or,  once 
more,  there  are  other  mercenary  natures  who  never  do  a  kind- 
ness to  a  friend  or  a  relation  simply  because  these  have  a 
claim  upon  them,  while  a  service  done  to  a  stranger  brings  its 
reward  to  self-love.  Such  natures  feel  but  little  affection  for 
those  who  are  nearest  to  them ;  they  keep  their  kindness  for 
remoter  circles  of  acquaintance,  and  show  most  to  those  who 
dwell  on  its  utmost  limits.  Mme.  Vauquer  belonged  to  both 
these  essentially  mean,  false,  and  execrable  classes. 

"  If  I  had  been  here  at  the  time,"  Vautrin  would  say  at  the 
end  of  the  story,  "  I  would  have  shown  her  up,  and  that  mis- 
fortune would  not  have  befallen  you.  I  know  that  kind  of 
phiz!" 

Like  all  narrow  natures,  Mme.  Vauquer  was  wont  to  confine 
her  attention  to  events,  and  did  not  go  very  deeply  into  the 
causes  that  brought  them  about ;  she  likewise  preferred  to 
throw  the  blame  of  her  own  mistakes  on  other  people,  so  she 
chose  to  consider  that  the  honest  vermicelli-maker  was  respon- 
sible for  her  misfortune.  It  had  opened  her  eyes,  so  she  said, 
with  regard  to  him.  As  soon  as  she  saw  that  her  blandish- 
ments were  in  vain,  and  that  her  outlay  on  her  toilet  was 
money  thrown  away,  she  was  not  slow  to  discover  the  reason 
of  his  indifference.  It  became  plain  to  her  at  once  that  there 
was  some  other  attraction,  to  use  her  own  expression.  In 
short,  it  was  evident  that  the  hope  she  had  so  fondly  cherished 
was  a  baseless  delusion,  and  that  she  would  "  never  make 
anything  out  of  that  man  yonder,"  in  the  Countess'  forcible 
phrase.  The  Countess  seemed  to  have  been  a  judge  of  char- 
acter. Mme.  Vauquer's  aversion  was  naturally  more  energetic 
than  her  friendship,  for  her  hatred  was  not  in  proportion  to 
her  love,  but  to  her  disappointed  expectations.  The  human 
heart  may  find  here  and  there  a  resting-place  short  of  the 
highest  height  of  affection,  but  we  seldom  stop  in  the  steep, 
downward  slope  of  hatred.     Still,  M.  Goriot  was  a  lodger. 


FATHER   GORIOT.  25 

and  the  widow's  wounded  self-love  could  not  vent  itself  in  an 
explosion  of  wrath ;  like  a  monk  harassed  by  the  prior  of  his 
convent,  she  was  forced  to  stifle  her  sighs  of  disappointment, 
and  to  gulp  down  her  cravings  for  revenge.  Little  minds  find 
gratification  for  their  feelings,  benevolent  or  otherwise,  by  a 
constant  exercise  of  petty  ingenuity.  The  widow  employed 
her  woman's  malice  to  devise  a  system  of  covert  persecution. 
She  began  by  a  course  of  retrenchment — various  luxuries 
which  had  found  their  way  to  the  table  appeared  there  no 
more. 

"  No  more  gherkins,  no  more  anchovies ;  they  have  made 
a  fool  of  me  !  "  she  said  to  Sylvia  one  morning,  and  they  re- 
turned to  the  old  bill  of  fare. 

The  thrifty  frugality  necessary  to  those  who  mean  to  make 
their  way  in  the  world  had  become  an  inveterate  habit  of  life 
with  M.  Goriot.  Soup,  boiled  beef,  and  a  dish  of  vegetables 
had  been,  and  always  would  be,  the  dinner  he  liked  best,  so 
Mrae.  Vauquer  found  it  very  difficult  to  annoy  a  boarder 
whose  tastes  were  so  simple.  He  was  proof  against  her 
malice,  and  in  desperation  she  spoke  to  him  and  of  him 
slightingly  before  the  other  lodgers,  who  began  to  amuse 
themselves  greatly  at  his  expense,  and  so  deeply  graitfied  her 
desire  for  revenge. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  first  year  the  widow's  suspicions 
had  reached  such  a  pitch  that  she  began  to  wonder  how  it  was 
that  a  retired  merchant  with  a  secure  income  of  seven  or  eight 
thousand  livres,  the  owner  of  such  magnificent  plate  and 
jewelry  handsome  enough  for  a  kept  mistress,  should  be 
living  in  her  house.  Why  should  he  devote  so  small  a 
proportion  of  his  money  to  his  expenses  ?  Until  the  first  year 
was  nearly  at  an  end,  Goriot  had  dined  out  once  or  twice 
every  week,  but  these  occasion^  came  less  frequently,  and  at 
last  he  was  scarcely  absent  from  the  dinner  table  twice  a 
month.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  Mme.  Vauquer 
should  regard  the  increased  regularity  of  her  boarder's  habits 


26  FATHER   GORIOT. 

with  complacency,  when  those  little  excursions  of  his  had  been 
so  much  to  her  interest.  She  attributed  the  change  not  so 
much  to  a  gradual  diminution  of  fortune  as  to  a  spiteful  wish 
to  annoy  his  hostess.  It  is  one  of  the  most  detestable  habits 
of  a  liliputian  mind  to  credit  other  people  with  its  own 
malignant  pettiness. 

Unluckily,  towards  the  end  of  the  second  year,  M.  Goriot's 
conduct  gave  some  color  to  the  idle  talk  about  him.  He 
asked  Mme.  Vauquer  to  give  him  a  room  on  the  second  floor, 
and  to  make  a  corresponding  reduction  in  her  charges.  Ap- 
parently, such  strict  economy  was  called  for,  that  he  did  with- 
out a  fire  all  through  the  winter.  Mme.  Vauquer  asked  to  be 
paid  in  advance,  an  arrangement  to  which  M.  Goriot  con- 
sented, and  thenceforward  she  spoke  of  him  as  "  Father 
Goriot." 

What  had  brought  about  this  decline  and  fall  ?  Conjecture 
was  keen,  but  investigation  was  diflScult.  Father  Goriot  was 
not  communicative  ;  in  the  sham  Countess'  phrase,  he  was  "  a 
curmudgeon."  Empty-headed  people  who  babble  about  their 
own  affairs  because  they  have  nothing  else  to  occupy  them, 
naturally  conclude  that  if  people  say  nothing  of  their  doings  it 
is  because  their  doings  will  not  bear  being  talked  about ;  so 
the  highly  respectable  merchant  became  a  scoundrel,  and  the 
late  beau  was  an  old  rogue.  Opinion  fluctuated.  Sometimes, 
according  to  Vautrin,  who  came  about  tliis  time  to  live  in 
the  Maison  Vauquer,  Father  Goriot  was  a  man  who  went  on 
'Change  and  dabbled  (io  use  the  sufficiently  expressive  language 
of  the  Stock  Exchange)  in  stocks  and  shares  after  he  had 
ruined  himself  by  heavy  speculation.  Sometimes  it  was  held 
that  he  was  one  of  those  petty  gamblers  who  nightly  play  for 
small  stakes  until  they  win  a  few  francs.  A  theory  that  he 
was  a  detective  in  the  employ  of  the  Home  Office  found  favor 
at  one  time,  but  Vautrin  urged  that  **  Goriot  was  not  sharp 
enough  for  one  of  that  sort."  There  were  yet  other  solutions ; 
Father  Goriot  was  a  skinflint,  a  shark  of  a  money-lender,  a  man 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  27 

who  lived  by  selling  lottery  tickets.  He  was  by  turns  all  the 
most  mysterious  brood  of  vice  and  shame  and  misery  \  yet, 
however  vile  his  life  might  be,  the  feeling  of  repulsion  which 
he  aroused  in  others  was  not  so  strong  that  he  must  be  ban- 
ished from  their  society — he  paid  his  way.  Besides,  Goriot 
had  his  uses,  every  one  vented  his  spleen  or  sharpened  his  wit 
on  him  ;  he  was  pelted  with  jokes  and  belabored  with  hard 
words.  The  general  consensus  of  opinion  was  in  favor  of  a 
theory  which  seemed  the  most  likely;  this  was  Mme.  Vau- 
quer's  view.  According  to  her,  the  man  so  well  preserved  at 
his  time  of  life,  as  sound  as  her  eyesight,  with  whom  a  woman 
might  be  very  happy,  was  a  libertine  who  had  strange  tastes. 
These  are  the  facts  upon  which  Mme.  Vauquer's  slanders  were 
based. 

Early  one  morning,  some  few  months  after  the  departure 
of  the  unlucky  Countess  who  had  managed  to  live  for  six 
months  at  the  widow's  expense,  Mme.  Vauquer  (not  yet 
dressed)  heard  the  rustle  of  a  silk  dress  and  a  young  woman's 
light  footstep  on  the  stair  ;  some  one  was  going  to  Goriot's 
room.  He  seemed  to  expect  the  visit,  for  his  door  stood  ajar. 
The  portly  Sylvie  presently  came  up  to  tell  her  mistress  that 
a  girl  too  pretty  to  be  honest,  "  dressed  like  a  goddess,"  and 
not  a  speck  of  mud  on  her  laced  cashmere  boots,  had  glided 
in  from  the  street  like  a  snake,  had  found  the  kitchen,  and 
asked  for  M.  Goriot's  room.  Mme.  Vauquer  and  the  cook, 
listening,  overheard  several  words  affectionately  spoken  during 
the  visit,  which  lasted  for  some  time.  When  M.  Goriot  went 
downstairs  with  the  lady,  the  stout  Sylvie  forthwith  took  her 
basket  and  followed  the  lover-like  couple,  under  pretext  of 
going  to  do  her  marketing. 

"  M.  Goriot  must  be  awfully  rich,  all  the  same,  madame," 
she  reported  on  her  return,  "  p  keep  her  in  such  style.  Just 
imagine  it !  There  was  a  splendid  carriage  waiting  at  the 
corner  of  the  Place  de  I'Estrapade,  and  she  got  into  it." 

While  they  were  at  dinner  that  evening,  Mme.  Vauquer 


28  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

went  to  the  window  and  drew  the  curtain,  as  the  sun  was 
shining  into  Goriot's  eyes. 

"  You  are  beloved  of  fair  ladies,  M.  Goriot — the  sun  seeks 
you  out,"  she  said,  alluding  to  his  visitor.  ^'Feste  /  you  have 
good  taste  ;  she  was  very  pretty." 

**  That  was  my  daughter,"  he  said,  with  a  kind  of  pride  in 
his  voice,  and  the  rest  chose  to  consider  this  as  the  fatuity  of 
an  old  man  who  wishes  to  save  appearances. 

A  month  after  this  visit  M.  Goriot  received  another.  The 
same  daughter  who  had  come  to  see  him  that  morning  came 
again  after  dinner,  this  time  in  evening  dress.  The  boarders, 
in  deep  discussion  in  the  dining-room,  caught  a  glimpe  of  a 
lovely,  fair-haired  woman,  slender,  graceful,  and  much  too 
distinguished-looking  to  be  a  daughter  of  Father  Goriot. 

"Two  of  them!"  cried  the  portly  Sylvie,  who  did  not 
recognize  the  lady  of  the  first  visit. 

A  few  days  later,  and  another  young  lady — a  tall,  well- 
moulded  brunette,  with  dark  hair  and  bright  eyes — came  to 
ask  for  M.  Goriot. 

**  Three  of  them  !  "  said  Sylvie. 

Then  the  second  daughter,  who  had  first  come  in  the  morn- 
ing to  see  her  father,  came  shortly  afterwards  in  the  evening. 
She  wore  a  ball  dress,  and  came  in  a  carriage. 

"  Four  of  them  !  "  commented  Mme.  Vauquer  and  her 
plump  handmaid.  Sylvie  saw  not  a  trace  of  resemblance 
between  this  great  lady  and  the  girl  in  her  simple  morning 
dress  who  had  entered  her  kitchen  on  the  occasion  of  her 
first  visit. 

At  that  time  Goriot  was  paying  twelve  hundred  francs  a 
year  to  his  landlady,  and  Mme.  Vauquer  saw  nothing  out  of 
the  common  in  the  fact  that  a  rich  man  had  four  or  five  mis- 
tresses ;  nay,  she  thought  it  very  knowing  of  him  to  pass  them 
off  as  his  daughters.  She  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  draw  a 
hard-and-fast  line,  or  to  take  umbrag©  at  his  sending  for  them 
to  the  Maison  Vauquer;    yet,  inasmuch  as  these  visits  ex- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  29 

plained  her  boarder's  indifference  to  her,  she  went  so  far  (at 
the  end  of  the  second  year)  as  to  speak  of  him  as  an  "  ugly 
old  wretch."  When  at  length  her  boarder  declined  to  nine 
hundred  francs  a  year,  she  asked  him  very  insolently  what  he 
took  her  house  to  be,  after  meeting  one  of  these  ladies  on  the 
stairs.  Father  Goriot  answered  that  the  lady  was  his  eldest 
daughter. 

"  So  you  have  two  or  three  dozen  daughters,  have  )'ou?" 
said  Mme.  Vanquer  sharply. 

"I  have  only  two,"  her  boarder  answered  meekly,  like  a 
ruined  man  who  is  broken  in  to  all  the  cruel  usage  of  mis- 
fortune. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  third  year  Father  Goriot  reduced  his 
expenses  still  further ;  he  went  up  to  the  third  story,  and  now 
paid  forty-five  francs  a  month.  He  did  without  snuff,  told 
his  hairdresser  that  he  no  longer  required  his  services,  and 
gave  up  wearing  powder.  When  Goriot  appeared  for  the  first 
time  in  this  condition,  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  broke 
from  his  hostess  at  the  color  of  his  hair — a  dingy  olive  gray. 
He  had  grown  sadder  day  by  day  under  the  influence  of  some 
hidden  trouble ;  among  all  the  faces  round  the  table,  his  was 
the  most  woe-begone.  There  was  no  longer  any  doubt.  Go- 
riot was  an  elderly  libertine,  whose  eyes  had  only  been  pre- 
served by  the  skill  of  the  physician  from  the  malign  influence 
of  the  remedies  necessitated  by  the  state  of  his  health.  The 
disgusting  color  of  his  hair  was  a  result  of  his  excesses,  and 
of  the  drugs  which  he  had  tal^^n  that  he  might  continue  his 
career.  The  poor  old  man's  mental  and  physical  condition 
afforded  some  ground  for  the  absurd  rubbish  talked  about 
him.  When  his  outfit  was  worn  out,  he  replaced  the  fine 
linen  by  calico  at  fourteen  sous  the  ell.  His  diamonds,  his 
old  snuff-box,  watch-chain  and  trinkets,  disappeared  one  by 
one.  He  had  left  off  wearing  the  cornflower  blue  coat,  and 
was  sumptuously  arrayed,  summer  as  winter,  in  a  coarse  chest- 


90  FATHER   GORIOT. 

nut-brown  coat,  a  plush  waistcoat,  and  doeskin  breeches.  He 
grew  thinner  and  thinner ;  his  legs  were  shrunken,  his  cheeks, 
once  so  puffed  out  by  contented  bourgeois  prosperity,  were 
covered  with  wrinkles,  and  the  outlines  of  the  jawbones  were 
distinctly  visible;  there  were  deep  furrows  in  his  forehead. 
In  the  fourth  year  of  his  residence  in  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte- 
Genevidve  he  was  no  longer  like  his  former  self.  The  hale 
vermicelli  manufacturer,  sixty-two  years  of  age,  who  had 
looked  scarce  forty,  the  stout,  comfortable,  prosperous  trades- 
man, with  an  almost  bucolic  air,  and  such  a  brisk  demeanor 
that  it  did  you  good  to  look  at  him  ;  the  man  with  something 
boyish  in  his  smile,  had  suddenly  sunk  into  his  dotage,  and 
had  become  a  feeble,  vacillating  septuagenarian. 

The  keen,  bright  blue  eyes  had  grown  dull,  and  faded  to  a 
steel-gray  color ;  the  red  inflamed  rims  looked  as  though  they 
had  shed  tears  of  blood.  He  excited  feelings  of  repulsion  in 
some,  and  of  pity  in  others.  The  young  medical  students 
who  came  to  the  house  noticed  the  drooping  of  his  lower  lip 
and  the  conformation  of  the  facial  angle ;  and,  after  teasing 
him  for  some  time  to  no  purpose,  they  declared  that  cretinism 
was  setting  in. 

One  evening  after  dinner  Mme.  Vauquer  said  half-banter- 
ingly  to  him,  "So  those  daughters  of  yours  don't  come  to 
see  you  any  more,  eh?"  meaning  to  imply  her  doubts  as  to 
his  paternity;  but  Father  Goriot  shrank  as  if  his  hostess  had 
touched  him  with  a  sword-point. 

"They  come  sometimes,"  he  said  in  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  Aha  !  you  still  see  them  sometimes  ?  "  cried  the  students. 
**  Bravo,  Father  Goriot !  " 

The  old  man  scarcely  seemed  to  hear  the  witticisms  at  his 
expense  that  followed  on  the  words ;  he  had  relapsed  into  the 
dreamy  state  of  mind  that  these  superficial  observers  took  for 
senile  torpor,  due  to  his  lack  of  intelligence.  If  they  had 
only  known,  they  might  have  been  deeply  interested  by  the 
problem  of  his  condition  ;    but    few  problems   were   more 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  81 

obscure.  It  was  easy,  of  course,  to  find  out  whether  Goriot 
had  really  been  a  vermicelli  manufacturer  ;  the  amount  of  his 
fortune  was  readily  discoverable  ;  but  the  old  people,  who 
were  most  inquisitive  as  to  his  concerns,  never  went  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  Quarter,  and  lived  in  the  lodging-house 
much  as  oysters  cling  to  a  rock.  As  for  the  rest,  the  current 
of  life  in  Paris  daily  awaited  them,  and  swept  them  away  with 
it ;  so  soon  as  they  left  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevidve,  they 
forgot  the  existence  of  the  old  man,  their  butt  at  dinner.  For 
those  narrow  souls,  or  for  careless  youth,  the  misery  in  Father 
Goriot's  withered  face  and  its  dull  apathy  were  quite  incom- 
patible with  wealth  or  any  sort  of  intelligence.  As  for  the 
creatures  whom  he  called  his  daughters,  all  Mme.  Vauquer's 
boarders  were  of  her  opinion.  With  the  faculty  for  severe 
logic  sedulously  cultivated  by  elderly  women  during  long 
evenings  of  gossip  till  they  can  always  find  an  hypothesis  to 
fit  all  circumstances,  she  was  wont  to  reason  thus — 

"  If  Father  Goriot  had  daughters  of  his  own  as  rich  as  those 
ladies  who  came  here  seemed  to  be,  he  would  not  be  lodging 
in  my  house,  on  the  third  floor,  at  forty-five  francs  a  month  ; 
and  he  would  not  go  about  dressed  like  a  poor  man." 

No  objection  could  be  raised  to  these  inferences.  So  by 
the  end  of  the  month  of  November,  1819,  at  the  time  when 
the  curtain  rises  on  this  drama,  every  one  in  the  house  had 
come  to  have  a  very  decided  opinion  as  to  the  poor  old  man. 
He  had  never  had  either  wife  or  daughter;  excesses  had 
reduced  him  to  this  sluggish  condition  ;  he  was  a  sort  of 
human  mollusc  who  should  be  classed  among  the  capu/z^fe,  so 
said  one  of  the  dinner  contingent,  an  employ^  at  the  Museum, 
who  had  a  pretty  wit  of  his  own.  Poiret  was  an  eagle,  a 
gentleman,  compared  with  Goriot.  Poiret  would  join  the 
talk,  argue,  answer  when  he  was  spoken  to ;  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  his  talk,  arguments,  and  responses  contributed  nothing 
to  the  conversation,  for  Poiret  had  a  habit  of  repeating  what 
the  others  said  in  different  words ;  still,  he  did  join  in  the 


82  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

talk;  he  was  alive,  and  seemed  capable  of  feeling;  while 
Father  Goriot  (to  quote  the  Museum  official  again)  was  invari- 
ably at  zero — Reaumur. 

Eugene  de  Rastignac  had  just  returned  to  Paris  in  a 
state  of  mind  not  unknown  to  young  men  who  are  conscious 
of  unusual  powers,  and  to  those  whose  faculties  are  so  stim- 
ulated by  a  difficult  position,  that  for  the  time  being  they  rise 
above  the  ordinary  level. 

Rastignac's  first  year  of  study  for  the  preliminary  exam- 
inations in  law  had  left  him  free  to  see  the  sights  of  Paris 
and  to  enjoy  some  of  its  amusements.  A  student  has 
not  much  time  on  his  hands  if  he  sets  himself  to  learn  the 
repertory  of  every  theatre,  and  to  study  the  ins  and  outs 
of  the  labyrinth  of  Paris.  To  know  its  customs;  to  learn 
the  language,  and  become  familiar  with  the  amusements  of 
the  capital,  he  must  explore  its  recesses,  good  and  bad,  follow 
the  studies  that  please  him  best,  and  form  some  idea  of  the 
treasures  contained  in  galleries  and  museums. 

At  this  stage  of  his  career  a  student  grows  eager  and  excited 
about  all  sorts  of  follies  that  seem  to  him  to  be  of  immense 
importance.  He  has  his  hero,  his  great  man,  a  professor  at 
the  College  de  France,  paid  to  talk  down  to  the  level  of  his 
audience.  He  adjusts  his  cravat,  and  strikes  various  atti- 
tudes for  the  benefit  of  the  women  in  the  first  galleries  at 
the  Opera-Comique.  As  he  passes  through  all  these  suc- 
cessive initiations,  and  breaks  out  of  his  sheath,  the  horizons 
of  life  widen  around  him,  and  at  length  he  grasps  the  plan 
of  society  with  the  different  human  strata  of  which  it  is 
composed. 

If  he  begins  by  admiring  the  procession  of  carriages  on 
sunny  afternoons  in  the  Champs-Elysees,  he  soon  reaches 
the  further  stage  of  envying  their  owners.  Unconsciously, 
Eugene  had  served  his  apprenticeship  before  he  went  back 
to  Angoulgme  for  the  long  vacation  after  taking  his  degrees 
as  bachelor  of  arts  and  bachelor  of  law.     The  illusions  of 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  33 

childhood  had  vanished,  so  also  had  the  ideas  he  brought  with 
him  from  the  provinces  ;  he  had  returned  thither  with  an  intel- 
ligence developed,  with  loftier  ambitions,  and  saw  things  as 
they  were  at  home  in  the  old  manor  house.  His  father  and 
mother,  his  two  brothers  and  two  sisters,  with  an  aged  aunt, 
whose  whole  fortune  consisted  in  annuities,  lived  on  the  little 
estate  of  Rastignac.  The  whole  property  brought  in  about 
three  thousand  francs  ;  and  though  the  amount  varied  with 
the  season  (as  must  always  be  the  case  in  a  vine-growing 
district),  they  were  obliged  to  spare  an  unvarying  twelve  hun- 
dred francs  out  of  their  income  for  him.  He  saw  how  con- 
stantly the  poverty,  which  they  had  generously  hidden  from 
him,  weighed  upon  them ;  he  could  not  help  comparing  the 
sisters,  who  had  seemed  so  beautiful  to  his  boyish  eyes,  with 
women  in  Paris,  who  had  realized  the  beauty  of  his  dreams. 
The  uncertain  future  of  the  whole  family  depended  upon  him. 
It  did  not  escape  his  eyes  that  not  a  crumb  was  wasted  in  the 
house,  nor  that  the  wine  they  drank  was  made  from  the  second 
pressing;  a  multitude  of  small  things,  which  it  is  useless  to 
speak  of  in  detail  here,  made  him  burn  to  distinguish  himself, 
and  his  ambition  to  succeed  increased  tenfold. 

He  meant,  like  all  great  souls,  that  his  success  should  be 
owing  entirely  to  his  merits  ;  but  his  was  pre-eminently  a 
southern  temperament,  the  execution  of  his  plans  was  sure  to 
be  marred  by  the  vertigo  that  sdzes  on  youth  when  youth 
sees  itself  alone  in  a  wide  sea,  uncertain  how  to  spend  its 
energies,  whither  to  steer  its  course,  how  to  adapt  its  sails  to 
the  winds.  At  first  he  determined  to  fling  himself  heart  and 
soul  into  his  work,  but  he  was  diverted  from  this  purpose  by 
the  need  of  society  and  connections ;  then  he  saw  how  great 
an  influence  women  exert  in  social  life,  and  suddenly  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  out  into  this  world  to  seek  a  protectress 
there.  Surely  a  clever  and  high-spirited  young  man,  whose 
wit  and  courage  were  set  off"  to  advantage  by  a  graceful 
figure,  and  the  vigorous  kind  of  beauty  that  readily  strikes 
3 


34  FATHER    GORIOT. 

a  woman's  imagination,  need  not  despair  of  finding  a  pro- 
tectress. These  ideas  occurred  to  him  in  his  country  walks 
with  his  sisters,  whom  he  had  once  joined  so  gaily.  The 
girls  thought  him  very  much  changed. 

His  aunt,  Mme.  de  Marcillac,  had  been  presented  at  court, 
and  had  moved  among  the  highest  heights  of  that  lofty  region. 
Suddenly  the  young  man's  ambition  discerned  in  those  recol- 
lections of  hers,  which  had  been  like  nursery  fairy  tales  to  her 
nephews  and  nieces,  the  elements  of  a  social  success  at  least 
as  important  as  the  success  which  he  had  achieved  at  the 
Ecole  de  droit.  He  began  to  ask  his  aunt  about  those  rela- 
tions ;  some  of  the  old  ties  might  still  hold  good.  After  much 
shaking  of  the  branches  of  the  family  tree,  the  old  lady  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  of  all  persons  who  could  be  useful  to 
her  nephew  among  the  selfish  genius  of  rich  relations,  the 
Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant  was  the  least  likely  to  refuse.  To 
this  lady,  therefore,  she  wrote  in  the  old-fashioned  style, 
recommending  Eugdne  to  her;  pointing  out  to  her  nephew 
that  if  he  succeeded  in  pleasing  Mme.  de  Beauseant,  the 
Vicomtesse  would  introduce  him  to  other  relations.  A  few 
days  after  his  return  to  Paris,  therefore,  Rastignac  sent  his 
aunt's  letter  to  Mme.  de  Beauseant.  The  Vicomtesse  replied 
by  an  invitation  to  a  ball  for  the  following  evening.  This 
was  the  position  of  affairs  at  the  Maison  Vauquer  at  the  end 
of  November,  1819. 

A  few  days  later,  after  Mme.  de  Beausdant's  ball,  Eugene 
came  in  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  persevering 
student  meant  to  make  up  for  the  lost  time  by  working  until 
daylight.  It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  attempted  to 
spend  the  night  in  this  way  in  that  silent  quarter.  The  spell 
of  a  factitious  energy  was  upon  him  ;  he  had  beheld  the  pomp 
and  splendor  of  the  world.  He  had  not  dined  at  the  Maison 
Vauquer ;  the  boarders  probably  would  think  that  he  would 
walk  home  at  daybreak  from  the  dance,  as  he  had  done  some- 
times on  former  occasions,  after  a  fSte  at  the  Prado,  or  a  ball 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  35 

at  the  Odeon,  splashing  his  silk  stockings  thereby,  and  ruining 
his  pumps. 

It  so  happened  that  Christophe  took  a  look  into  the  street 
before  drawing  the  bolts  of  the  door ;  and  Rastignac,  coming 
in  at  that  moment,  could  go  up  to  his  room  without  making 
any  noise,  followed  by  Christophe,  who  made  a  great  deal. 
Eugene  exchanged  his  dress  suit  for  a  shabby  overcoat  and 
slippers,  kindled  a  fire  with  some  blocks  of  patent  fuel,  and 
prepared  for  his  night's  work  in  such  a  way  that  the  faint 
sounds  he  made  were  drowned  by  Christophe's  heavy  tramp 
on  the  stairs. 

Eugene  sat  absorbed  in  thought  for  a  few  moments  before 
plunging  into  his  law  books.  He  had  just  become  aware  of 
the  fact  that  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant  was  one  of  the 
queens  of  fashion,  that  her  house  was  thought  to  be  the  pleas- 
antest  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain.  And  not  only  so,  she 
was,  by  right  of  her  fortune,  and  the  name  she  bore,  one  of 
the  most  conspicuous  figures  in  that  aristocratic  world. 
Thanks  to  his  aunt,  thanks  to  Mme.  de  Marcillac's  letter  of 
introduction,  the  poor  student  had  been  kindly  received  in 
that  house  before  he  knew  the  extent  of  the  favor  thus  shown 
to  him.  It  was  almost  like  a  patent  of  nobility  to  be  admitted 
to  those  gilded  salons ;  he  had  appeared  in  the  most  exclusive 
circle  in  Paris,  and  now  all  doors  were  open  for  him.  Eugene 
had  been  dazzled  at  first  by  the  brilliant  assembly,  and  had 
scarcely  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  Vicomtesse  ;  he  had 
been  content  to  single  out  a  goddess  from  among  this  throng 
of  Parisian  divinities,  one  of  those  women  who  are  sure  to 
attract  a  young  man's  fancy. 

The  Comtesse  Anastasie  de  Restaud  was  tall  and  gracefully 
made  ;  she  had  one  of  the  prettiest  figures  in  Paris.  Imagine 
a  pair  of  great  dark  eyes,  a  magnificently  moulded  hand,  a 
shapely  foot.  There  was  a  fiery  energy  in  her  movements  \ 
the  Marquis  de  Ronquerolles  had  called  her  a  **  thorough- 
bred," but  this  fineness  of  nervous  organization  had  brought 


36  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

no  accompanying  defect ;  the  outlines  of  her  form  were  full 
and  rounded,  without  any  tendency  to  stoutness.  "A  thor- 
oughbred," "a  pure  pedigree,"  these  figures  of  speech  have 
replaced  the  "heavenly  angel"  and  Ossianic  nomenclature; 
the  old  mythology  of  love  is  extinct,  doomed  to  perish  by 
modern  dandyism.  But  for  Rastignac,  Mme.  Anastasie  de 
Restaud  was  the  woman  for  whom  he  had  sighed.  He  had 
contrived  to  write  his  name  twice  upon  the  list  of  partners 
upon  her  fan,  and  had  snatched  a  few  words  with  her  during 
the  first  quadrille. 

"Where  shall  I  meet  you  again,  madame?"  he  asked 
abruptly,  and  the  tones  of  his  voice  were  full  of  the  vehement 
energy  that  women  like  so  well. 

"  Oh,  everywhere  1  "  said  she,  "  in  the  Bois,  at  the  Bouf- 
fons,  in  my  own  house." 

With  the  impetuosity  of  his  adventurous  southern  temper, 
he  did  all  he  could  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  this 
lovely  Countess,  making  the  best  of  his  opportunities  in  the 
quadrille  and  during  a  waltz  that  she  gave  him.  When  he 
had  told  her  that  he  was  a  cousin  of  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant, 
the  Countess,  whom  he  took  for  a  great  lady,  asked  him  to 
call  at  her  house,  and,  after  her  parting  smile,  Rastignac  felt 
convinced  that  he  must  make  this  visit.  He  was  so  lucky  as 
to  light  upon  some  one  who  did  not  laugh  at  his  ignorance, 
a  fatal  defect  among  the  gilded  and  insolent  youth  of  that 
period  ;  the  coterie  of  Maulincourts,  Maximes  de  Trailles,  de 
Marsays,  Ronquerolles,  Ajuda-Pintos,  and  Vandenesses,  who 
shone  there  in  all  the  glory  of  coxcombry  among  the  best- 
dressed  women  of  fashion  in  Paris — Lady  Brandon,  the  Duchesse 
de  Langeais,  the  Comtesse  de  Kergarouet,  Mme.  de  Serizy, 
the  Duchesse  de  Carigliano,  the  Comtesse  Ferraud,  Mme.  de 
Lanty,  the  Marquise  d'Aiglemont,  Mme.  Firmiani,  the  Mar- 
quise de  Listomdre  and  the  Marquise  d'Espard,  the  Duchesse 
de  Maufrigneuse  and  the  Grandlieus.  Luckily,  therefore,  for 
him,  the  novice  happened  upon  the  Marquis  de  Montriveau, 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  37 

the  lover  of  the  Duchesse  de  Langeais,  a  general  as  simple  as  a 
child ;  from  him  Rastignac  learned  that  the  Comtesse  lived  in 
the  Rue  du  Helder. 

Ah,  what  it  is  to  be  young,  eager  to  see  the  world,  greedily 
on  the  watch  for  any  chance  that  brings  you  nearer  the  woman 
of  your  dreams,  and  behold  two  houses  open  their  doors  to 
you  !  To  set  foot  in  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant's  house  in 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  ;  to  fall  on  your  knees  before  a 
Comtesse  de  Restaud  in  the  Chaussde  d'Antin  ;  to  look  at 
one  glance  across  a  vista  of  Paris  drawing-rooms,  conscious 
that,  possessing  sufficient  good  looks,  you  may  hope  to  find 
aid  and  protection  there  in  a  feminine  heart  !  To  feel  ambi- 
tious enough  to  spurn  the  tight-rope  on  which  you  must  walk 
with  the  steady  head  of  an  acrobat  for  whom  a  fall  is  impossi- 
ble, and  to  find  in  a  charming  woman  the  best  of  all  balancing 
poles. 

He  sat  there  with  his  thoughts  for  a  while,  law  on  the  one 
hand  and  poverty  on  the  other,  beholding  a  radiant  vision 
of  a  woman  rise  above  the  dull,  smoldering  fire.  Who  would 
not  have  paused  and  questioned  the  figure  as  Eugene  was  do- 
ing ?  who  would  not  have  pictured  it  full  of  success  ?  His 
wandering  thoughts  took  wings  ;  he  was  transported  out  of 
the  present  into  that  blissful  future  ;  he  was  sitting  by  Mme. 
de  Restaud's  side,  when  a  sort  of  sigh,  like  the  grunt  of  an 
overburdened  St.  Joseph,  broke  the  silence  of  the  night.  It 
vibrated  through  the  student,  who  took  the  sound  for  a  death- 
groan.  He  opened  his  door  noiselessly,  went  out  upon  the 
landing,  and  saw  a  thin  streak  of  light  under  Father  Goriot's 
door.  Eugene  feared  that  his  neighbor  had  been  taken  ill ; 
he  went  over  and  looked  through  the  key-hole  ;  the  old  man 
was  busily  engaged  in  an  occupation  so  singular  and  so  sus- 
picious that  Rastignac  thought  he  was  only  doing  a  piece  of 
necessary  service  to  society  to  watch  the  self-styled  vermicelli- 
maker's  nocturnal  industries. 

The  table  was  upturned,  and  Goriot  had  doubtless  in  some 


38  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

way  secured  a  silver  plate  and  cup  to  the  bar  before  knotting 
a  thick  rope  round  them  ;  he  was  pulling  at  this  rope  with 
such  enormous  force  that  they  were  being  crushed  and  twisted 
out  of  shape  j  to  all  appearance  he  meant  to  convert  the 
richly  wrought  metal  into  ingots. 

^^ Peste !  what  a  man!"  said  Rastignac,  as  he  watched 
Goriot's  muscular  arms ;  there  was  not  a  sound  in  the  room 
while  the  old  man,  with  the  aid  of  the  rope,  was  kneading  the 
silver  like  dough.  "Was  he,  then,  indeed,  a  thief,  or  a  receiver 
of  stolen  goods,  who  affected  imbecility  and  decrepitude,  and 
lived  like  a  beggar  that  he  might  carry  on  his  pursuits  the 
more  securely  ?  "  Eugene  stood  for  a  moment  revolving  these 
questions  in  his  mind,  then  he  looked  again  through  the 
keyhole  as  before. 

Father  Goriot  had  unwound  his  coil  of  rope ;  he  had  covered 
the  table  with  a  blanket,  and  was  now  employed  in  rolling  the 
flattened  mass  of  silver  into  a  bar,  an  operation  which  he  per- 
formed with  marvelous  dexterity. 

"  Why,  he  must  be  as  strong  as  Augustus,  King  of  Poland  !  " 
said  Eugene  to  himself  when  the  bar  was  nearly  finished. 

Father  Goriot  looked  sadly  at  his  handiwork,  tears  fell  from 
his  eyes,  he  blew  out  the  dip  which  had  served  him  for  a  light 
while  he  manipulated  the  silver,  and  Eugene  heard  him  sigh 
as  he  lay  down  again. 

**  He  is  mad,"  thought  the  student. 

*'  Poor  child  !  "  Father  Goriot  said  aloud.  Rastignac,  hear- 
ing those  words,  concluded  to  keep  silence ;  he  would  not  hastily 
condemn  his  neighbor.  He  was  just  in  the  doorway  of  his 
room  when  a  strange  sound  from  the  staircase  below  reached 
his  ears  ;  it  might  have  been  made  by  two  men  coming  up  in 
list  slippers.  Eugene  listened  ;  two  men  there  certainly  were, 
he  could  hear  their  breathing.  Yet  there  had  been  no  sound 
of  opening  the  street-door,  no  footsteps  in  the  passage.  Sud- 
denly, too,  he  saw  a  faint  gleam  of  light  on  the  second  story ; 
it  came  from  M.  Vautrin's  room. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  39 

"  There  are  a  good  many  mysteries  here  for  a  lodging- 
house  !  "  he  said  to  himself. 

He  went  part  of  the  way  downstairs  and  listened  again. 
The  rattle  of  gold  reached  his  ears.  In  another  moment  the 
light  was  put  out,  and  again  he  distinctly  heard  the  breathing 
of  two  men,  but  no  sound  of  a  door  being  opened  or  shut. 
The  two  men  went  downstairs,  the  faint  sounds  growing 
fainter  as  they  went. 

"  Who  is  there?  "  cried  Mme.  Vauquer  out  of  her  bedroom 
window,  she  having  heard  slight  sounds  of  the  departing 
footsteps  and  the  closing  of  the  outer  door. 

"  I,  Mme.  Vauquer,"  answered  Vautrin's  deep  bass  voice. 
"  I  am  coming  in." 

"  That  is  odd  !  Christophe  drew  the  bolts,"  said  Eugene, 
going  back  to  his  room.  "  You  have  to  sit  up  at  night,  it 
seems,  if  you  really  mean  to  know  all  that  is  going  on  about 
you  in  Paris." 

These  incidents  turned  his  thoughts  from  his  ambitious 
dreams ;  he  betook  himself  to  his  work,  but  his  thoughts  wan- 
dered back  to  Father  Goriot's  suspicious  occupation  ;  Mme. 
de  Restaud's  face  swam  again  and  again  before  his  eyes  like  a 
vision  of  a  brilliant  future,  and  at  last  he  lay  down  and  slept 
with  clenched  fists.  When  a  young  man  makes  up  his  mind 
that  he  will  work  all  night,  the  chances  are  that  seven  times 
out  of  ten  he  will  sleep  till  morning.  Such  vigils  do  not 
begin  before  we  are  turned  twenty. 

The  next  morning  Paris  was  wrapped  in  one  of  the  dense 
fogs  that  throw  the  most  punctual  people  out  in  their  calcula- 
tions as  to  the  time ;  even  the  most  business-like  folk  fail  to 
keep  their  appointments  in  such  weather,  and  ordinary  mortals 
wake  up  at  noon  and  fancy  it  is  eight  o'clock.  On  this  morn- 
ing it  was  half-past  nine,  and  Mme.  Vauquer  still  lay  abed. 
Christophe  was  late,  Sylvie  was  late,  but  the  two  sat  comfort- 
ably taking  their  coffee  as  usual.  It  was  Sylvie's  custom  to 
take  the  cream  off  the  milk  destined  for  the  boarders'  break- 


40  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

fast  for  her  own,  and  to  boil  the  remainder  for  some  time,  so 

that  madame  should  not  discover  this  illegal  exaction. 

''Sylvie,"  said  Christophe,  as  he  dipped  a  piece  of  toast 
into  the  coffee,  "  M.  Vautrin,  who  is  not  such  a  bad  sort,  all 
the  same,  had  two  people  come  to  see  him  again  last  night. 
If  madame  says  anything,  mind  you  say  nothing  about  it." 

**  Has  he  given  you  something?  " 

"He  gave  me  a  five-franc  piece  this  month,  which  is  as 
good  as  saying,  *  Hold  your  tongue.'  " 

"Except  him  and  Mme.  Couture,  who  don't  look  twice  at 
every  penny,  there's  no  one  in  the  house  that  doesn't  try  to 
get  back  with  the  left  hand  all  that  they  give  with  the  right  at 
New  Year,"  said  Sylvie. 

"  And,  after  all,"  said  Christophe,  "  what  do  they  give  you  ? 
A  miserable  five-franc  piece.  There  is  Father  Goriot,  who 
has  cleaned  his  shoes  himself  these  two  years  past.  There  is 
that  old  beggar  Poiret,  who  goes  without  blacking  altogether; 
he  would  sooner  drink  it  than  put  it  on  his  boots.  Then  there 
is  that  whipper-snapper  of  a  student,  who  gives  me  a  couple 
of  francs.  Two  francs  will  not  pay  for  my  brushes,  and  he 
sells  his  old  clothes,  and  gets  more  for  them  than  they  are 
worth.     Oh  !  they're  a  shabby  lot !  " 

"Pooh  !  "  said  Sylvie,  sipping  her  coffee,  "our  places  are 
the  best  in  the  Quarter,  that  I  know.  But  about  that  great  big 
chap  Vautrin,  Christophe;  has  any  one  told  you  anything 
about  him?" 

"  Yes.  I  met  a  gentleman  in  the  street  a  it^N  days  ago ;  he 
said  to  me,  'There's  a  gentleman  at  your  place,  isn't  there? 
a  tall  man  that  dyes  his  whiskers?'  I  told  him,  'No, 
sir;  they  aren't  dyed.  A  gay  fellow  like  him  hasn't  the 
time  to  do  it.'  And  when  I  told  M.  Vautrin  about  it  after- 
wards, he  said,  *  Quite  right,  my  boy.  That  is  the  way  to 
answer  them.  There  is  nothing  more  unpleasant  than  to  have 
your  little  weaknesses  known  ;  it  might  spoil  many  a  match.'  " 

"Well,  and  for  my  part,"  said  Sylvie,  "a  man  tried  to 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  41 

humbug  me  at  the  market  wanting  to  know  if  I  had  seen  him 
put  on  his  shirt.  Such  bosh  !  There,"  she  cried,  interrupt- 
ing herself,  "that's  a  quarter  to  ten  striking  at  the  Val-de- 
Grace,  and  not  a  soul  stirring  !  " 

"  Pooh  !  they  are  all  gone  out.  Mme.  Couture  and  the 
girl  went  out  at  eight  o'clock  to  take  the  wafer  at  Saint- 
Etienne.  Father  Goriot  started  oif  somewhere  with  a  parcel, 
and  the  student  won't  be  back  from  his  lecture  till  ten  o'clock. 
I  saw  them  go  while  I  was  sweeping  the  stairs ;  Father  Goriot 
knocked  up  against  me,  and  his  parcel  was  as  hard  as  iron. 
What  is  the  old  fellow  up  to  I  wonder?  He  is  as  good  as  a 
plaything  for  the  rest  of  them ;  they  can  never  let  him  alone; 
but  he  is  a  good  man,  all  the  same,  and  worth  more  than  all 
of  them  put  together.  He  doesn't  give  you  much  himself, 
but  he  sometimes  sends  you  with  a  message  to  ladies  who  fork 
out  famous  tips  ;  they  are  dressed  grandly,  too." 

"His  daughters,  as  he  calls  them,  elf?  There  are  a  dozen 
of  them." 

**  I  have  never  been  to  more  than  two — the  two  who  came 
here." 

**  There  is  madame  moving  overhead  ;  I  shall  have  to  go, 
or  she  will  raise  a  fine  racket.  Just  keep  an  eye  on  the  milk, 
Christophe  !  don't  let  the  cat  get  at  it." 

Sylvie  went  up  to  her  mistress'  room. 

"Sylvie  !  How  is  this?  It's  nearly  ten  o'clock,  and  you 
let  me  sleep  on  like  a  dormouse  !  Such  a  thing  has  never 
happened  before." 

"It  is  the  fog;  it  is  that  thick,  you  could  cut  it  with  a 
knife." 

"  But  how  about  breakfast?" 

"  Bah  !  the  boarders  are  possessed,  I'm  sure.  They  all 
cleared  out  before  there  was  a  wink  of  daylight." 

"Do  speak  properly,  Sylvie,"  Mme.  Vauquer  retorted; 
**  say  a  blink  of  daylight." 

**  Ah,  well,  madame,  whichever  you  please.     Anyhow,  you 


42  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

can  have  breakfast  at  ten  o'clock.  La  Michonnette  and 
Poireau  have  neither  of  them  stirred.  There  are  only  those 
two  upstairs,  and  they  are  sleeping  like  the  logs  they  are." 

"But,  Sylvie,  you  put  their  names  together  as  if " 

"  As  if  what  ?  "  said  Sylvie,  bursting  into  a  guffaw.  "  The 
two  of  them  make  a  pair." 

"It  is  a  strange  thing,  isn't  it,  Sylvie,  how  M.  Vautrin  got 
in  last  night  after  Christophe  had  bolted  the  door?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  madame.  Christophe  heard  M.  Vautrin,  and 
went  down  and  undid  the  door  for  him.  And  here  are  you 
imagining  that " 

"Give  me  my  bodice,  and  be  quick  and  get  breakfast 
ready.  Dish  up  the  rest  of  the  mutton  with  the  potatoes, 
and  you  can  put  the  stewed  pears  on  the  table,  those  at  five  a 
penny." 

A  few  moments  later  Mme.  Vauquer  came  down,  just  in 
time  to  see  the  cat  knock  down  a  plate  that  covered  a  bowl  of 
milk,  and  begin  to  lap  in  all  haste. 

"  Mistigris  !  "  she  cried. 

The  cat  fled,  but  promptly  returned  to  rub  against  her 
ankles. 

"Oh!  yes,  you  can  wheedle,  you  old  hypocrite!"  she 
said.     "Sylvie!  Sylvie!" 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Just  see  what  the  cat  has  done  !  " 

"  It  is  all  that  stupid  Christophe's  fault.  I  told  him  to 
stop  and  lay  the  table.  What  has  become  of  him?  Don't 
you  worry,  madame  ;  Father  Goriot  shall  have  it.  I  will  fill 
it  up  with  water,  and  he  won't  know  the  difference  ;  he  never 
notices  anything,  not  even  what  he  eats." 

"  I  wonder  where  the  old  heathen  can  have  gone?"  said 
Mme.  Vauquer,  setting  the  plates  round  the  table. 

"  Who  knows  ?     He  is  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks." 

"  I  have  overslept  myself,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer. 

"  But  madame  looks  as  fresh  as  a  rose,  all  the  same." 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  43 

The  door-bell  rang  at  that  moment,  and  Vautrin  came 
through  the  sitting-room,  singing  loudly — 

"  '  Tis  the  same  old  story  everywhere, 

A  roving  heart  and  a  roving  glance " 

**  Oh  !  Mamma  Vauquer  !  good-morning  !  "  he  cried  at  the 
sight  of  his  hostess,  and  he  put  his  arm  gaily  round  her  waist. 

''  There  !  have  done " 

"  *  Impertinence  ! '  Say  it !  "  he  answered.  "  Come,  say 
it !  Now  isn't  that  what  you  really  mean  ?  Stop  a  bit,  I  will 
help  you  to  set  the  table.     Ah  !  I  am  a  nice  man,  am  I  not  ? 

"  'For  the  lockt  of  brown  and  the  golden  hair 
A  sighing  lover.' 

" Oh !  I  have  just  seen  something  soiunny 

"  ♦ led  by  chance.'  " 

**  What  ?  "  asked  the  widow. 

*'  Father  Goriot  in  the  goldsmith's  shop  in  the  Rue  Dau- 
phine  at  half-past  eight  this  morning.  They  buy  old  spoons 
and  forks  and  gold  lace  there,  and  Goriot  sold  a  piece  of 
silver  plate  for  a  good  round  sum.  It  had  been  twisted  out  of 
shape  very  neatly  for  a  man  that's  not  used  to  the  trade." 

"Really?     You  don't  say  so  ?" 

"Yes.  One  of  my  friends  is  expatriating  himself;  I  had 
been  to  see  him  off  on  board  the  Royal  Mail  steamer,  and 
was  coming  back  here.  I  waited  after  that  to  see  what  Father 
Goriot  would  do ;  it  is  a  comical  affair.  He  came  back  to 
this  quarter  of  the  world,  to  the  Rue  des  Gres,  and  went  into 
a  money-lender's  house ;  everybody  knows  him,  Gobseck,  a 
stuck-up  rascal,  that  would  make  dominoes  out  of  his  father's 
bones  ;  a  Turk,  a  heathen,  an  old  Jew,  a  Greek  ;  it  would  be 
a  difficult  matter  to  rob  htm,  for  he  puts  all  his  coin  into  the 
bank." 

"  Then  what  was  Father  Goriot  doing  there  ?  " 


44  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"  Doing  ?  "  said  Vautrin.  **  Nothing  ;  he  was  bent  on  his 
own  undoing.  He  is  a  simpleton,  stupid  enough  to  ruin  hina- 
seif  by  running  after " 

"  There  he  is  !  "  said  Sylvie. 

**  Christophe,"  cried  Father  Goriot's  voice,  "come  upstairs 
with  me." 

Christophe  went  up,  and  shortly  afterwards  came  down 
again. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Mme.  Vauquer  asked  of  her 
servant. 

"  Out  on  an  errand  for  M.  Goriot." 

"What  may  that  be?"  said  Vautrin,  pouncing  on  a  letter 
in  Christophe's  hand.  "  Mme.  la  Comtesse  Anastasie  de  Res- 
taud,"  he  read.  "  Where  are  you  going  with  it  ?  "  he  added, 
as  he  gave  the  letter  back  to  Christophe. 

"To  the  Rue  du  Helder.  I  have  orders  to  give  this  into 
her  hands  myself." 

"  What  is  there  inside  it  ?  "  said  Vautrin,  holding  the  letter 
up  to  the  light.  "A  bank-note?  No."  He  peered  into 
the  envelope.  "A  receipted  account !"  he  cried.  "My 
word  !  'tis  a  gallant  old  dotard.  Off  with  you,  old  chap," 
he  said,  bringing  down  a  hand  on  Christophe's  head,  and 
spinning  the  man  round  like  a  thimble ;  "  you  will  have  a 
famous  tip." 

By  this  time  the  table  was  set.  Sylvie  was  boiling  the 
milk;  Mme.  Vauquer  was  lighting  a  fire  in  the  stove  with 
some  assistance  from  Vautrin,  who  kept  on  humming  to  him- 
self— 

"  TTie  same  old  story  everywhere, 

A  roving  heart  and  a  roving  glance." 

When  everything  was  ready,  Mme.  Couture  and  Mile. 
Taillefer  came  in. 

"Where  have  you  been  this  morning,  fair  lady?"  said 
Mme.  Vauquer,  turning  to  Mme.  Couture. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  45 

"  We  have  just  been  to  say  our  prayers  at  Saint-Etienne  du 
Mont.  To  day  is  the  day  when  we  must  go  to  see  M.  Taillefer. 
Poor  little  thing  !  She  is  trembling  like  a  leaf,"  Mme.  Cou- 
ture went  on,  as  she  seated  herself  before  the  fire  and  held  the 
steaming  soles  of  her  boots  to  the  blaze. 

"Warm  yourself,  Victorine,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer. 

'*  It  is  quite  right  and  proper,  mademoiselle,  to  pray  to 
heaven  to  soften  your  father's  heart,"  said  Vautrin,  as  he  drew 
a  chair  nearer  to  the  orphan  girl;  "but  that  is  not  enough. 
What  you  want  is  a  friend  who  will  give  the  monster  a  piece 
of  his  mind  ;  a  barbarian  that  has  three  millions  (so  they  say), 
and  will  not  give  you  a  dowry ;  and  a  pretty  girl  needs  a 
dowry  nowadays." 

"Poor  child  !  "  said  Mme.  Vauquer.  "Never  mind,  my 
pet,  your  wretch  of  a  father  is  going  just  the  way  to  bring 
trouble  upon  himself." 

Victorine's  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the  words,  and  the 
widow  checked  herself  at  a  sign  from  Mme.  Couture. 

"  If  we  could  only  see  him  !  "  said  the  commissary-general's 
widow  ;  "  if  I  could  speak  to  him  myself  and  give  him  his 
wife's  last  letter !  I  have  never  dared  to  run  the  risk  of  send- 
ing it  by  post ;  he  knew  my  handwriting " 

"  *  Oh  woman,  persecuted  and  injured  innocent!'"  ex- 
claimed Vautrin,  breaking  in  upon  her.  "  So  that  is  how  you 
are,  is  it?  In  a  few  days'  time  I  will  look  into  your  affairs, 
and  it  will  be  all  right,  you  shall  see." 

"Oh  !  sir,"  said  Victorine,  with  a  tearful  but  eager  glance 
at  Vautrin,  who  showed  no  sign  of  being  touched  by  it,  "  if 
you  know  of  any  way  of  communicating  with  my  father,  please 
be  sure  and  tell  him  that  his  aflFection  and  my  mother's  honor 
are  more  to  me  than  all  the  money  in  the  world.  If  you  can 
induce  him  to  relent  a  little  towards  me,  I  will  pray  to  God 
for  you.     You  may  be  sure  of  my  gratitude " 

"  The  same  old  story  everywhere, ^^  sang  Vautrin,  with  a  sa- 
tirical intonation.  At  this  juncture,  Goriot,  Mile.  Michonneau, 


46  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

and  Poiret  came  downstairs  together;  possibly  the  scent  of 
the  gravy  which  Sylvie  was  making  to  serve  with  the  mutton 
had  announced  breakfast.  The  seven  people  thus  assembled 
bade  each  other  good-morning,  and  took  their  places  at  the 
table ;  the  clock  struck  ten,  and  the  student's  footsteps  were 
heard  outside. 

"Ah!  here  you  are,  M.  Eugene,"  said  Sylvie;  "every 
one  is  breakfasting  at  home  to-day." 

The  student  exchanged  greetings  with  the  lodgers,  and  sat 
down  beside  Goriot. 

"  I  have  just  met  with  a  queer  adventure,"  he  said,  as  he 
helped  himself  abundantly  to  the  mutton,  and  cut  a  slice 
of  bread,  which  Madame  Vauquer's  sharp  and  watchful  eyes 
gauged  as  usual. 

"  An  adventure  ?  "  queried  Poiret. 

"  Well,  and  what  is  there  to  astonish  you  in  that,  old  boy?" 
Vautrin  asked  of  Poiret.  "  M,  Eugene  is  cut  out  for  that 
kind  of  thing." 

Mile.  Taillefer  stole  a  timid  glance  at  the  young  student. 

"  Tell  us  about  your  adventure,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer. 

"Yesterday  evening  I  went  to  a  ball  given  by  a  cousin  of 
mine,  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant.  She  has  a  magnificent 
house ;  the  rooms  were  hung  with  silk — in  short,  it  was  a 
splendid  affair,  and  I  was  as  happy  as  a  king " 

"  Fisher,"  put  in  Vautrin,  interrupting. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  "  said  Eugene  sharply. 

"  I  said  'fisher,'  because  kingfishers  see  a  good  deal  more 
fun  than  kings." 

"Quite  true;  I  would  much  rather  be  the  little  careless 
bird  than  a  king,"  said  Poiret  the  ditto-ist,  "  because " 

"In  fact"— the  law  student  cut  him  short — "  I  danced 
with  one  of  the  handsomest  women  in  the  room,  a  charming 
countess,  the  most  exquisite  creature  I  have  ever  seen.  There 
was  peach  blossom  in  her  hair,  and  she  had  the  loveliest  bou- 
quet of  flowers — real  flowers,  that  scented  the  air but 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  47 

there !  it  is  no  use  trying  to  describe  a  woman  glowing 
with  the  dance.  You  ought  to  have  seen  her !  Well,  and 
this  morning  I  met  this  divine  countess  about  nine  o'clock, 
on  foot  in  the  Rue  des  Gres.  Oh !  how  my  heart  beat !  I 
began  to  think " 

"That  she  was  coming  here,"  said  Vautrin,  with  a  keen 
look  at  the  student.  "  I  expect  that  she  was  going  to  call  on 
old  Gobseck,  a  money-lender.  If  ever  you  explore  a  Parisian 
woman's  heart,  you  will  find  the  money-lender  first,  and  the 
lover  afterwards.  Your  countess  is  called  Anastasie  de  Res- 
taud,  and  she  lives  in  the  Rue  de  Helder." 

The  student  stared  hard  at  Vautrin.  Father  Goriot  raised 
his  head  at  the  words,  and  gave  the  two  speakers  a  glance  so 
full  of  intelligence  and  uneasiness  that  the  lodgers  beheld  him 
with  astonishment. 

"  Then  Christophe  was  too  late,  and  she  must  have  gone  to 
him  !  "  cried  Goriot,  with  anguish  in  his  voice. 

"It  is  just  as  I  guessed,"  said  Vautrin,  leaning  over  to 
whisper  in  Mme.  Vauquer's  ear. 

Goriot  went  on  with  his  breakfast,  but  seemed  unconscious 
of  what  he  was  doing.  He  had  never  looked  more  stupid 
nor  more  taken  up  with  his  own  thoughts  than  he  did  at  that 
moment. 

"  Who  the  devil  could  have  told  you  her  name,  M.  Vau- 
trin?" asked  Eugene. 

"Aha!  there  you  are!"  answered  Vautrin.  Old  Father 
Goriot  there  knew  it  quite  well  !  and  why  should  not  I  know 
it  too?" 

"  M.  Goriot  ?  "  the  student  cried. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  old  man.  **  So  she  was  very  beau- 
tiful, was  she,  yesterday  night?  " 

"Who?" 

"Mme.  de  Restaud." 

"Look  at  the  old  wretch,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer,  speaking 
to  Vautrin  ;  "  how  his  eyes  light  up  !  " 


48  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

"  Then  does  he  really  keep  her?  "  said  Mile.  Michonneau, 
in  a  whisper  to  the  student. 

"  Oh  !  yes,  she  was  tremendously  pretty,"  Eugene  an- 
swered. Father  Goriot  watched  him  with  eager  eyes.  "If 
Mme.  de  Beauseant  had  not  been  there,  my  divine  countess 
would  have  been  the  queen  of  the  ball ;  none  of  the  younger 
men  had  eyes  for  any  one  else.  I  was  the  twelfth  on  her  list, 
and  she  danced  every  quadrille.  The  other  women  were  furi- 
ous. She  must  have  enjoyed  herself,  if  ever  creature  did  ! 
It  is  a  true  saying  that  there  is  no  more  beautiful  sight  than  a 
frigate  in  full  sail,  a  galloping  horse,  or  a  woman  dancing." 

"  So  the  wheel  turns,"  said  Vautrin  ;  "  yesterday  night  at 
a  duchess'  ball,  this  morning  in  a  money-lender's  office,  on 
the  lowest  rung  of  the  ladder — ^just  like  a  Parisienne  !  If  their 
husbands  cannot  afford  to  pay  for  their  frantic  extravagance, 
they  will  sell  themselves.  Or  if  they  cannot  do  that,  they 
will  tear  out  their  mothers'  hearts  to  find  something  to  pay 
for  their  splendor.  They  will  turn  the  world  upside  down. 
Just  a  Parisienne  through  and  through  !  " 

Father  Goriot's  face,  which  had  shone  at  the  student's 
words  like  the  sun  on  a  bright  day,  clouded  over  all  at  once 
at  this  cruel  speech  of  Vautrin's. 

"Well,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer,  "  but  where  is  your  adven- 
ture ?  Did  you  speak  to  her  ?  Did  you  ask  her  if  she  wanted 
to  study  law?  " 

"  She  did  not  see  me,"  said  Eugene.  "  But  only  think  of 
meeting  one  of  the  prettiest  women  in  Paris  in  the  Rue  des 
Gres  at  nine  o'clock  !  She  could  not  have  reached  home 
after  the  ball  till  two  o'clock  this  morning.  Wasn't  it  queer? 
There  is  no  place  like  Paris  for  these  sort  of  adventures." 

"Pshaw!  much  funnier  things  than  Ma/  happen  here!  " 
exclaimed  Vautrin. 

Mile.  Taillefer  had  scarcely  heeded  the  talk,  she  was  so 
absorbed  by  the  thought  of  the  new  attempt  that  she  was 
about  to  make.     Mme.  Couture  made  a  sign  that  it  was  time 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  49 

to  go  upstairs  and  dress  ;  the  two  ladies  went  out,  and  Father 
Goriot  followed  their  example. 

"Well,  did  you  see?"  said  Mme.  Vauquer,  addressing 
Vautrin  and  the  rest  of  the  circle.  "  He  is  ruining  himself 
for  those  women,  that  is  plain." 

"  Nothing  will  ever  make  me  believe  that  that  beautiful 
Comtesse  de  Restaud  is  anything  to  Father  Goriot,"  cried  the 
student. 

"Well,  and  if  you  don't,"  broke  in  Vautrin,  "we  are  not 
set  on  convincing  you.  You  are  too  young  to  know  Paris 
thoroughly  yet ;  later  on  you  will  find  (S'at  that  there  are 
what  we  call  men  with  a  passion " 

Mile.  Michonneau  gave  Vautrin  a  quick  glance  at  these 
words.  They  seemed  to  be  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet  to 
a  trooper's  horse.  "Aha!"  said  Vautrin,  stopping  in  his 
speech  to  give  her  a  searching  glance,  "  so  we  have  had  our 
little  experiences,  have  we  ?  " 

The  old  maid  lowered  her  eyes  like  a  nun  who  sees  a  statue. 

"  Well,"  he  went  on,  "  when  folk  of  that  kind  get  a  notion 
into  their  heads,  they  cannot  drop  it.  They  must  drink  the 
water  from  some  particular  spring — it  is  stagnant  as  often  as 
not ;  but  they  will  sell  their  wives  and  families,  they  will  sell 
their  own  souls  to  the  devil  to  get  it.  For  some  this  spring  is 
play,  or  the  stock  exchange,  or  music,  or  a  collection  of  pic- 
tures or  insects  ;  for  others  it  is  some  woman  who  can  give 
them  the  dainties  they  like.  You  might  offer  these  last  all 
the  women  on  earth — they  would  turn  up  their  noses  ;  they 
will  have  the  only  one  who  can  gratify  their  passion.  It  often 
happens  that  the  woman  does  not  care  for  them  at  all,  and 
treats  them  cruelly;  they  buy  their  morsels  of  satisfaction 
very  dear  ;  but  no  matter,  the  fools  are  never  tired  of  it ;  they 
will  take  their  last  blanket  to  the  pawnbroker  to  give  their 
last  five-franc  piece  to  her.  Father  Goriot  here  is  one  of  that 
sort.  He  is  discreet,  so  the  Countess  exploits  him — ^just  the 
way  of  the  gay  world.  The  poor  old  fellow  thinks  of  her  and 
4 


50  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

of  nothing  else.  In  all  other  respects  you  see  he  is  a  stupid 
animal;  but  get  him  on  that  subject,  and  his  eyes  sparkle  like 
diamonds.  That  secret  is  not  difficult  to  guess.  He  took 
some  plate  himself  this  morning  to  the  melting-pot,  and  I  saw 
him  at  Daddy  Gobseck's  in  the  Rue  des  Gres.  And  now, 
mark  what  follows — he  came  back  here,  and  gave  a  letter  for 
tlie  Comtesse  de  Restaud  to  that  noodle  of  a  Christophe,  who 
showed  us  the  address ;  there  was  a  receipted  bill  inside  it. 
It  is  clear  that  it  was  an  urgent  matter  if  the  Countess  also 
went  herself  to  the  old  money-lender.  Father  Goriot  has 
financed  her  handsomely.  There  is  no  need  to  tack  a  tale 
together ;  the  thing  is  self-evident.  So  that  shows  you,  sir 
student,  that  all  the  time  your  countess  was  smiling,  dancing, 
flirting,  swaying  her  peach-flower  crowned  head,  with  her 
gown  gathered  into  her  hand,  her  slippers  were  pinching  her, 
as  they  say ;  she  was  thinking  of  her  protested  bills,  or  her 
lover's  protested  bills." 

"You  have  made  me  wild  to  know  the  truth,"  cried 
Eugene  de  Rastignac ;  "  I  will  go  to  call  on  Mme.  de  Restaud 
to-morrow." 

"Yes,"  echoed  Poiret;  "you  must  go  and  call  on  Mme. 
de  Restaud." 

"  And  perhaps  you  will  find  Father  Goriot  there,  who  will 
take  payment  for  the  assistance  he  politely  rendered." 

Eugdne  looked  disgusted.  "  Why,  then,  this  Paris  of  yours 
is  a  slough." 

"  And  an  uncommonly  queer  slough,  too,"  replied  Vautrin. 
"  The  mud  splashes  you  as  you  drive  through  it  in  your 
carriage — you  are  a  respectable  person  ;  you  go  afoot  and 
are  splashed — you  are  a  scoundrel.  You  are  so  unlucky  as 
to  walk  off"  with  something  or  other  belonging  to  somebody 
else,  and  they  exhibit  you  as  a  curiosity  in  the  Place  du 
Palais-de-Justice  ;  you  steal  a  million,  and  you  are  pointed 
out  in  every  salon  as  a  model  of  virtue.  And  you  pay  thirty 
millions  for   the   police   and  the    courts  of  justice,  for    the 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  51 

maintenance  of  law  and    order !       A  pretty  state  of  things 

it  is!" 

"  What,"  cried  Mme.  Vauquer,  "  has  Father  Goriot  really 
melted  down  his  silver  posset-dish?" 

"  There  were  two  turtle-doves  on  the  lid,  were  there 
not?  "  asked  Eugene. 

*'  Yes,  that  there  were." 

**  Then,  was  he  fond  of  it!  "  said  Eugene.  "He  cried 
while  he  was  breaking  up  the  cup  and  pjate.  I  happened 
to  see  him  by  accident." 

"  It  was  dear  to  him  as  his  own  life,"  answered  the  widow. 

"There!  you  see  how  infatuated  the  old  fellow  is,"  cried 
Vautrin.     * '  The  woman  yonder  can  coax  the  soul  out  of  him, " 

The  student  went  up  to  his  room.  Vautrin  went  out,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  Mme.  Couture  and  Victorine  drove  away 
in  a  cab  which  Sylvie  had  called  for  them.  Poiret  gave 
his  arm  to  Mile.  Michonneau,  and  they  went  together  to 
spend  the  two  sunniest  hours  of  the  day  in  the  Jardin  des 
PI  antes. 

"  Well,  those  two  are  as  good  as  married,"  was  the  portly 
Sylvie's  comment.  "  They  are  going  out  together  to-day 
for  the  first  time.  They  are  such  a  couple  of  dry  sticks 
that  if  they  happen  to  strike  against  each  other  they  will 
draw  sparks  like  flint  and  steel." 

"Keep  clear  of  Mile.  Michonneau's  shawl,  then,"  said 
Mme.  Vauquer,  laughing  ;   "it  would  flare  up  like  tinder." 

At  four  o'clock  that  evening,  when  Goriot  came  in,  he 
saw,  by  the  light  of  two  smoky  lamps,  that  Victorine's  eyes 
were  red.  Mme.  Vauquer  was  listening  to  the  history  of 
the  visit  made  that  morning  to  M.  Taillefer  ;  it  had  been  made 
in  vain.  Taillefer  was  tired  of  the  annual  application  made 
by  his  daughter  and  her  elderly  friend  ;  he  gave  them  a  per- 
sonal interview  in  order  to  arrive  at  an  understanding  with 
them. 


52  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Mme.  Couture,  addressing  Mme. 
Vauquer,  "just  imagine  it;  he  did  not  even  ask  Victorine  to 
sit  down,  she  was  standing  the  whole  time.  He  said  to  me 
quite  coolly,  without  putting  himself  in  a  passion,  that  we 
might  spare  ourselves  the  trouble  of  going  there;  that  the 
young  lady  (he  would  not  call  her  his  daughter)  was  injuring 
her  cause  by  importuning  him  {importuning .'  once  a  year,  the 
wretch!);  that  as  Victorine's  mother  had  nothing  when  he 
married  her,  Victorine  ought  not  to  expect  anything  from 
him ;  in  fact,  he  said  the  most  cruel  things,  that  made  the 
poor  child  burst  out  crying.  The  little  thing  threw  herself 
at  her  father's  feet  and  spoke  up  bravely ;  she  said  that  she 
only  persevered  in  her  visits  for  her  mother's  sake ;  that  she 
would  obey  him  without  a  murmur,  but  that  she  begged  him 
to  read  her  poor  dead  mother's  farewell  letter.  She  took  it 
up  and  gave  it  to  him,  saying  the  most  beautiful  things  in  the 
world,  most  beautifully  expressed ;  I  do  not  know  where  she 
learned  them ;  God  must  have  put  them  into  her  head,  for 
the  poor  child  was  inspired  to  speak  so  nicely  that  it  made 
me  cry  like  a  fool  to  hear  her  talk.  And  what  do  you  think 
the  monster  was  doing  all  the  time?  Cutting  his  nails  !  He 
took  the  letter  that  poor  Mme.  Taillefer  had  soaked  with  tears, 
and  flung  it  on  to  the  chimney-piece.  '  That  is  all  right,*  he 
said.  He  held  out  his  hands  to  raise  his  daughter,  but  she 
covered  them  with  kisses,  and  he  drew  them  away  again.  Scan- 
dalous, isn't  it?  And  his  great  booby  of  a  son  came  in  and 
took  no  notice  of  his  sister." 

"Very  singular  conduct,  indeed!"  exclaimed  Mme.  Vauquer. 

"What  inhuman  wretches  they  must  be!  "said  Father 
Goriot. 

"  And  then  they  both  went  out  of  the  room,"  Mme.  Couture 
went  on,  without  heeding  the  worthy  vermicelli-maker's  ex- 
clamation ;  "  father  and  son  bowed  to  me,  and  asked  me  to 
excuse  them  on  account  of  urgent  business !  That  is  the 
history  of  our  call.     Well,  he  has  seen  his  daughter  at  any  rate. 


FATHER   GORIOT.  53 

How  he  can  refuse  to  acknowledge  her  I  cannot  think,  for 
they  are  as  like  as  two  peas. ' ' 

The  boarders  dropped  in  one  after  another,  interchanging 
greetings  and  the  empty  jokes  that  certain  classes  of  Parisians 
regard  as  humorous  and  witty.  Dulness  is  their  prevailing 
ingredient,  and  the  whole  point  consists  in  mispronouncing  a 
word  or  in  a  gesture  This  kind  of  argot  is  always  changing. 
The  essence  of  the  jest  consists  in  some  catchword  suggested  by 
a  political  event,  an  incident  in  the  police  courts,  a  street  song, 
or  a  bit  of  burlesque  at  some  theatre,  and  forgotten  in  a  month. 
Anything  and  everything  serves  to  keep  up  a  game  of  battle- 
dore and  shuttlecock  with  words  and  ideas.  The  diorama,  a 
recent  invention,  which  carried  an  optical  illusion,  a  degree 
farther  than  panoramas,  had  given  rise  to  a  mania  among  art 
students  for  ending  every  word  with  rama.  The  Maison 
Vauquer  had  caught  the  infection  from  a  young  artist  among 
the  boarders. 

"Well,  Monsieur-r-r  Poiret,"  said  the  employ^  from  the 
Museum,  "  how  is  your  health-orama  ?  "  Then,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  he  turned  to  Mme.  Couture  and  Victorine 
with  a  "  Ladies,  you  seem  melancholy." 

"Is  dinner  ready?"  cried  Horace  Bianchon,  a  medical 
student,  and  a  friend  of  Rastignac's;  "  my  stomach  is  sinking 
usque  ad  talonesy 

"  There  is  an  yyacoxaxaon  frozerama  outside  !  "  said  Vautrin. 
**  Make  room  there.  Father  Goriot  !  Confound  it  !  your  foot 
covers  the  whole  front  of  the  stove.  Let  somebody  else  have 
a  show." 

"Illustrious  M.  Vautrin,"  put  in  Bianchon,  "why  do  you 
S2,y  frozerama  ?     It  is  incorrect  ;   it  should  hz  frozenramaV 

"No,  it  shouldn't,"  said  the  official  from  the  Museum; 
"frozerama  is  right  by  the  same  rule  that  you  say  '  My  feet 
are  frozf. '  ' ' 

"Ah!  ah!  " 

"  Here  is  his  excellency  the  Marquis  de  Rastignac,  Doctor 


54  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

of  the  Law  of  Contraries,"  cried  Bianchon,  seizing  Eugene 
by  the  throat,  and  almost  throttling  him. 

"Hallo  there!  hallo!  " 

Mile.  Michonneau  came  noiselessly  in,  bowed  to  the  rest  of 
the  party,  and  took  her  place  beside  the  three  women  without 
saying  a  word. 

"That  old  bat  always  makes  me  shudder,"  said  Bianchon 
in  a  low  voice,  indicating  Mile.  Michonneau  to  Vautrin.  "  I 
have  studied  Gall's  system,  and  I  am  sure  she  has  the  bump 
of  Judas." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  a  case  before?  "  said  Vautrin. 

"  Who  has  not?  "  answered  Bianchon.  "  Upon  my  word, 
that  ghastly  old  maid  looks  just  like  one  of  the  long  worms 
that  will  gnaw  a  beam  through,  give  them  time  enough." 

"  That  is  the  way,  young  man,"  returned  he  of  the  forty 
years  and  the  dyed  whiskers — 

"  The  rose  has  lived  the  life  of  a  rose — 
A  morning's  space." 

"Aha  !  here  is  a  magnificent  soupe-au-rama,^'  cried  Poiret 
as  Christophe  came  in  bearing  the  soup  with  cautious  heed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer;  "it  is 
soupe  aux  choux. ' ' 

All  the  young  men  roared  with  laughter. 

"  Had  you  there,  Poiret !  " 

"  Poir-r-r-rette  !  she  had  you  there  !  " 

"  Score  two  points  to  Mamma  Vauquer,"  said  Vautrin. 

"Did  anyone  notice  the  fog  this  morning?"  asked  the 
official. 

"  It  was  a  frantic  fog,"  said  Bianchon,  "  a  fog  unparalleled, 
doleful,  melancholy,  sea-green,  asthmatical — a  Goriot  of  a 
fog!" 

"A  Goriorama,"  said  the  art  student,  "because  you 
couldn't  see  a  thing  in  it." 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  55 

**Hey!  Milord  Gaoriotte,  they  air  talking  about  yoo-o- 
ou." 

Father  Goriot,  seated  at  the  lower  end  of  the  table,  close 
to  the  door  through  which  the  servant  entered,  raised  his 
face ;  he  had  smelt  at  a  scrap  of  bread  that  lay  under  his 
table  napkin,  an  old  trick  acquired  in  his  commercial  capa- 
city, that  still  showed  itself  at  times. 

''Well,"  Mme.  Vauquer  cried  in  sharp  tones,  that  rang 
above  the  rattle  of  spoons  and  plates  and  the  sound  of  other 
voices,  "and  is  there  anything  the  matter  with  the  bread?" 

"Nothing  whatever,  madame,"  he  answered;  "on  the 
contrary,  it  is  made  of  the  best  quality  of  corn  ;  flour  from 
Etampes," 

**  How  could  you  tell?  "  asked  Eugene. 

**  By  the  color,  by  the  flavor." 

"  You  knew  the  flavor  by  the  smell,  I  suppose,"  said  Mme. 
Vauquer.  "You  have  grown  so  economical,  you  will  find 
out  how  to  live  on  the  smell  of  cooking  at  last." 

"  Take  out  a  patent  for  it  then,"  cried  the  Museum  official ; 
"you  would  make  a  handsome  fortune." 

"  Never  mind  him,"  said  the  artist ;  "  he  does  that  sort  of 
thing  to  delude  us  into  thinking  that  he  was  a  vermicelli- 
maker." 

"  Your  nose  is  a  corn -sampler,  it  appears?"  inquired  the 
official, 

"  Corn  what?^'  asked  Bianchon. 

"Corn-el." 

"Corn-et." 

"Corn-elian." 

"Corn-ice." 

"  Corn-ucopia." 

"Corn-crake." 

"  Corn-cockle." 

"  Corn-orama." 

The  eight  responses  came  like  a  rolling  fire  from  every  part 


56  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

of  the  room,  and  the  laughter  that  followed  was  the  more 
uproarious  because  poor  Father  Goriot  stared  at  the  other  with 
a  puzzled  look,  like  a  foreigner  trying  to  catch  the  meaning 
of  words  in  a  language  that  he  does  not  understand. 

"Corn? "    he    said,    turning   to    Vautrin,    his    next 

neighbor. 

"Corn  on  your  foot,  old  man!"  said  Vautrin,  and  he 
drove  Father  Goriot's  cap  down  over  his  eyes  by  a  blow  on 
the  crown. 

The  poor  old  man  thus  suddenly  attacked  was  for  a  moment 
too  bewildered  to  do  anything.  Christophe  carried  off  his 
plate,  thinking  that  he  had  finished  his  soup,  so  that  when 
Goriot  had  pushed  back  his  cap  from  his  eyes  his  spoon 
encountered  the  table.  Everyone  burst  out  laughing.  "You 
are  a  disagreeable  joker,  sir,"  said  the  old  man,  "and  if  you 
take  any  further  liberties  with  me " 

"  Well,  what  then,  old  boy?"  Vautrin  interrupted. 

"  Well,  then,  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  it  some  day- 


"  Down  below,  eh?"  said  the  artist,  "in  the  little  dark 
corner  where  they  put  naughty  boys." 

"Well,  mademoiselle,"  Vautrin  said,  turning  to  Victorine, 
**  you  are  eating  nothing.     So  papa  was  refractory,  was  he?  " 

"  A  monster !  "  said  Mme.  Couture. 

"  Mademoiselle  might  make  application  for  aliment  pending 
her  suit ;  she  is  not  eating  anything.  Eh  !  eh !  just  see  how 
Father  Goriot  is  staring  at  Mile.  Victorine." 

The  old  man  had  forgotten  his  dinner,  he  was  so  absorbed 
in  gazing  at  the  poor  girl ;  the  sorrow  in  her  face  was  unmis- 
takable— the  slighted  love  of  a  child  whose  father  would  not 
recognize  her. 

"  We  are  mistaken  about  Father  Goriot,  my  dear  boy," 
said  Eugene  in  a  low  voice.  "  He  is  not  an  idiot,  nor  want- 
ing in  energy.  Try  your  Gall  system  on  him,  and  let  me 
know  what  you  think.  I  saw  him  crush  a  silver  dish  last 
night  as  if  it  had  been  made  of  wax ;  there  seems  to  be  some- 


FATHER    GORIOT.  57 

thing  extraordinary  going  on  in  his  mind  just  now,  to  judge 
by  his  face.  His  life  is  so  mysterious  that  it  must  be  worth 
studying.     Oh,  you  may  laugh,  Bianchon  \  I  am  not  joking." 

"  The  man  is  a  subject,  is  he  ?  "  said  Bianchon  ;  "  all  right ! 
I  will  dissect  him  if  he  will  give  me  a  chance." 

"  No  ;  feel  his  bumps." 

*'  Hm  ! — his  stupidity  might  perhaps  be  contagious." 

The  next  day  Rastignac  dressed  himself  very  elegantly,  and 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  went  to  call  on  Mme.  de 
Restaud.  On  the  way  thither  he  indulged  in  the  wild  intox- 
icating dreams  which  fill  a  young  head  so  full  of  delicious 
excitement.  Young  men  at  his  age  take  no  account  of  obsta- 
cles nor  of  dangers;  they  see  success  in  every  direction  ;  imag- 
ination has  free  play,  and  turns  their  lives  into  a  romance ; 
they  are  saddened  or  discouraged  by  the  collapse  of  one  of  the 
wild  visionary  schemes  that  have  no  existence  save  in  their 
heated  fancy.  If  youth  were  not  ignorant  and  timid,  civiliza- 
tion would  be  impossible. 

Eugene  took  unheard-of  pains  to  keep  himself  in  a  spotless 
condition,  but  on  his  way  through  the  streets  he  began  to 
think  about  Mme.  de  Restaud  and  what  he  should  say  to  her. 
He  equipped  himself  with  wit,  rehearsed  repartees  in  the  course 
of  an  imaginary  conversation,  and  prepared  certain  neat 
speeches  a  la  Talleyrand,  conjuring  up  a  series  of  small  events 
which  should  prepare  the  way  for  the  declaration  on  which  he 
had  based  his  future  ;  and  during  these  musings  the  law  student 
was  bespattered  with  mud,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  the 
Palais  Royal  he  was  obliged  to  have  his  boots  blacked  and  his 
trousers  brushed. 

"If  I  were  rich,"  he  said,  as  he  changed  the  five-franc 
piece  he  had  brought  with  him  in  case  anything  might  happen, 
"I  would  take  a  cab,  then  I  could  think  at  my  ease." 

At  last  he  reached  the  Rue  de  Helder,  and  asked  for  the 
Comtesse  de  Restaud.     He  bore  the  contemptuous  glances  of 


68  FATHER    GORIOT. 

the  servants,  who  had  seen  him  cross  the  court  on  foot,  with 
the  cold  fury  of  a  man  who  knows  that  he  will  succeed  some 
day.  He  understood  the  meaning  of  their  glances  at  once, 
for  he  had  felt  his  inferiority  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  court, 
where  a  smart  cab  was  waiting.  All  the  delights  of  life  in 
Paris  seemed  to  be  implied  by  this  visible  and  manifest  sign 
of  luxury  and  extravagance.  A  fine  horse,  in  magnificent 
harness,  was  pawing  the  ground,  and  all  at  once  the  law 
student  felt  out  of  humor  with  himself.  Every  compartment 
in  his  brain  which  he  had  thought  to  find  so  full  of  wit  was 
bolted  fast ;  he  grew  positively  stupid.  He  sent  up  his  name 
to  the  Countess,  and  waited  in  the  ante-chamber,  standing  on 
one  foot  before  a  window  that  looked  out  upon  the  court ; 
mechanically  he  leaned  his  elbow  against  the  sash,  and  stared 
before  him.  The  time  seemed  long  ;  he  would  have  left  the 
house  but  for  the  southern  tenacity  of  purpose  which  works 
miracles  when  it  is  single-minded. 

"Madame  is  in  her  boudoir,  and  cannot  see  anyone  at 
present,  sir,"  said  the  servant.  "She  gave  me  no  answer; 
but  if  you  will  go  into  the  dining-room,  there  is  some  one 
already  there." 

Rastignac  was  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  formidable 
power  of  the  lackey  who  can  accuse  or  condemn  his  masters 
by  a  word ;  he  coolly  opened  the  door  by  which  the  man  had 
just  entered  the  ante-chamber,  meaning,  no  doubt,  to  show 
these  insolent  flunkeys  that  he  was  familiar  with  the  house ; 
but  he  found  that  he  had  thoughtlessly  precipitated  himself 
into  a  small  room  full  of  dressers,  where  lamps  were  standing, 
and  hot-water  pipes,  on  which  towels  were  being  dried  ;  a 
dark  passage  and  a  back  staircase  lay  beyond  it.  Stifled 
laughter  from  the  ante-chamber  added  to  his  confusion. 

"This  way  to  the  drawing-room,  sir,"  said  the  servant, 
with  the  exaggerated  respect  which  seemed  to  be  one  more 
jest  at  his  expense. 

Eugene  turned  so  quickly  that  he  stumbled  against  a  bath. 


THE  HORSE  TOOK  FRIGHT  AT  THE   UMBRELLA. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  59 

By  good  luck,  he  managed  to  keep  his  hat  on  his  head,  and 
saved  it  from  immersion  in  the  water ;  but  just  as  he  turned, 
a  door  opened  at  the  farther  end  of  the  dark  passage,  dimly 
lighted  by  a  small  lamp.  Rastignac  heard  voices  and  the 
sound  of  a  kiss  ;  one  of  the  speakers  was  Mme.  de  Restaud, 
the  other  was  Father  Goriot,  Eugene  followed  the  servant 
through  the  dining-room  into  the  drawing-room  ;  he  went  to  a 
window  that  looked  out  into  the  courtyard,  and  stood  there 
for  a  while.  He  meant  to  know  whether  this  Goriot  was 
really  the  Goriot  that  he  knew.  His  heart  beat  unwontedly 
fast ;  he  remembered  Vautrin's  hideous  insinuations.  A  well- 
dressed  young  man  suddenly  emerged  from  the  room  almost 
as  Eugene  entered  it,  saying  impatiently  to  the  servant  who 
stood  at  the  door:  "I  am  going,  Maurice,  Tell  Madame  la 
Comtesse  that  I  waited  more  than  half  an  hour  for  her." 

Whereupon  this  insolent  being,  who,  doubtless,  had  a  right 
to  be  insolent,  sang  an  Italian  trill,  and  went  towards  the 
window  where  Eugene  was  standing,  moved  thereto  quite  as 
much  by  a  desire  to  see  the  student's  face  as  by  a  wish  to  look 
out  into  the  courtyard. 

"  But  M.  le  Comte  had  better  wait  a  moment  longer ; 
madame  is  disengaged,"  said  Maurice,  as  he  returned  to  the 
ante-chamber. 

Just  at  that  moment  Father  Goriot  appeared  close  to  the 
gate ;  he  had  emerged  from  a  door  at  the  foot  of  the  back 
staircase.  The  worthy  soul  was  preparing  to  open  his  um- 
brella regardless  of  the  fact  that  the  great  gate  had  opened  to 
admit  a  tilbury,  in  which  a  young  man  with  a  ribbon  at  his 
button-hole  was  seated.  Father  Goriot  had  scarcely  time  to 
start  back  and  save  himself.  The  horse  took  fright  at  the  um- 
brella, swerved,  and  dashed  forward  towards  the  flight  of  steps. 
The  young  man  looked  round  in  annoyance,  saw  Father  Goriot, 
and  greeted  him  as  he  went  out  with  constrained  courtesy,  such 
as  people  usually  show  to  a  money-lender  so  long  as  they  require 
his  services,  or  the  sort  of  respect  they  feel  it  necessary  to 


60  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

show  for  some  one  whose  reputation  has  been  blown  upon,  so 
that  they  blush  to  acknowledge  his  acquaintance.  Father 
Goriot  gave  him  a  little  friendly  nod  and  a  good-natured 
smile.  All  this  happened  with  lightning  speed.  Eugene  was 
so  deeply  interested  that  he  forgot  that  he  was  not  alone  till 
he  suddenly  heard  the  Countess'  voice. 

**  Oh  !  Maxime,  were  you  going  away?"  she  said  reproach- 
fully, with  a  shade  of  pique  in  her  manner.  The  Countess 
had  not  seen  the  incident  nor  the  entrance  of  the  tilbury. 
Rastignac  turned  abruptly  and  saw  her  standing  before  him, 
coquettishly  dressed  in  a  loose  white  cashmere  gown  with  knots 
of  rose-colored  ribbon  here  and  there ;  her  hair  was  carelessly 
coiled  about  her  head,  as  is  the  wont  of  Parisian  women  in 
the  morning ;  there  was  a  soft  fragrance  about  her — doubtless 
she  was  fresh  from  a  bath — her  graceful  form  seemed  more 
flexible,  her  beauty  more  luxuriant.  Her  eyes  glistened.  A 
young  man  can  see  everything  at  a  glance ;  he  feels  the  radi- 
ant influence  of  woman  as  a  plant  discerns  and  absorbs  its 
nutriment  from  the  air ;  he  did  not  need  to  touch  her  hands 
to  feel  their  cool  freshness.  He  saw  faint  rose  tints  through 
the  cashmere  of  the  dressing-gown  ;  it  had  fallen  slightly 
open,  giving  glimpses  of  a  bare  throat,  on  which  the  student's 
eyes  rested.  The  Countess  had  no  need  of  the  adventitious 
aid  of  corsets ;  her  girdle  defined  the  outlines  of  her  slender 
waist ;  her  throat  was  a  challenge  to  love  ;  her  feet,  thrust  into 
slippers,  were  daintily  small.  As  Maxime  took  her  hand  and 
kissed  it,  Eugene  became  aware  of  Maxime's  existence,  and 
the  Countess  saw  Eugene. 

"Oh!  is  that  you  M.  de  Rastignac?  I  am  very  glad  to 
see  you,"  she  said,  but  there  was  something  in  her  manner 
that  a  shrewd  observer  would  have  taken  as  a  hint  to  depart. 

Maxime,  as  the  Countess  Anastasie  had  called  the  young 
man  with  the  haughty  insolence  of  bearing,  looked  from 
Eugene  to  the  lady,  and  from  the  lady  to  Eugene ;  it  was 
sufficiently  evident  that  he  wished  to  be  rid  of  the  latter. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  61 

An  exact  and  faithful  rendering  of  the  glance  might  be  given 
in  the  words:  "  Look  here,  my  dear;  I  hope  you  intend  to 
send  this  little  whipper-snapper  about  his  business." 

The  Countess  consulted  the  young  man's  face  with  an  intent 
submissiveness  that  betrays  all  the  secrets  of  a  woman's  heart, 
and  Rastignac  all  at  once  began  to  hate  him  violently.  To 
begin  with,  the  sight  of  the  fair  carefully  arranged  curls  on 
the  other's  comely  head  had  convinced  him  that  his  own  crop 
was  hideous ;  Maxime's  boots,  moreover,  were  elegant  and 
spotless,  while  his  own,  in  spite  of  all  his  care,  bore  some 
traces  of  his  recent  walk ;  and,  finally,  Maxime's  overcoat 
fitted  the  outline  of  his  figure  gracefully,  he  looked  like  a 
pretty  woman,  while  Eugene  was  wearing  a  black  coat  at  half- 
past  two.  The  quick-witted  child  of  the  Charente  felt  the 
disadvantage  at  which  he  was  placed  beside  this  tall,  slender 
dandy,  with  the  clear  gaze  and  the  pale  face,  one  of  those 
men  who  would  ruin  orphan  children  without  scruple. 
Mme.  de  Restaud  fled  into  the  next  room  without  waiting  for 
Eugene  to  speak  ;  shaking  out  the  skirts  of  her  dressing-gown 
in  her  flight,  so  that  she  looked  like  a  white  butterfly,  and 
Maxime  hurried  after  her.  Eugene,  in  a  fury,  followed  Max- 
ime  and  the  Countess,  and  the  three  stood  once  more  face  to 
face  by  the  hearth  in  the  large  drawing-room.  The  law  student 
felt  quite  sure  that  the  odious  Maxime  found  him  in  the  way, 
and  even  at  the  risk  of  displeasing  Mme.  de  Restaud,  he 
meant  to  annoy  the  dandy.  It  had  struck  him  all  at  once 
that  he  had  seen  the  young  man  before  at  Mme.  de  Beauseant's 
ball ;  he  guessed  the  relation  between  Maxime  and  Mme.  de 
Restaud  ;  and  with  the  youthful  audacity  that  commits  pro- 
digious blunders  or  achieves  signal  success,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  This  is  my  rival ;  I  mean  to  cut  him  out." 

Rash  resolve  !  He  did  not  know  that  M.  le  Comte  Maxime 
de  Trailles  would  wait  till  he  was  insulted,  so  as  to  fire  first  and 
kill  his  man.  Eugene  was  a  sportsman  and  a  good  shot,  but 
he  had  not  yet  hit  the  bull's  eye  twenty  times  out  of  twenty- 


62  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

two.  The  young  Count  dropped  into  a  low  chair  by  the 
hearth,  took  up  the  tongs,  and  made  up  the  fire  so  violently 
and  so  sulkily,  that  Anastasie's  fair  face  suddenly  clouded 
over.  She  turned  to  Eugene  with  a  cool,  questioning  glance 
that  asked  plainly,  "  Why  do  you  not  go?  "  a  glance  which 
well-bred  people  regard  as  a  cue  to  make  their  exit. 

Eugene  assumed  an  amiable  expression. 

"  Madame,"  he  began,  "  I  hastened  to  call  upon  you " 

He  stopped  short.  The  door  opened,  and  the  owner  of  the 
tilbury  suddenly  appeared.  He  had  left  his  hat  outside,  and 
did  not  greet  the  Countess ;  he  looked  meditatively  at  Ras- 
tignac,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Maxime  with  a  cordial 
"Good-morning,"  that  astonished  Eugene  not  a  little.  The 
young  provincial  did  not  understand  the  amenities  of  a  triple 
alliance. 

**  M.  de  Restaud,"  said  the  Countess,  introducing  her 
husband  to  the  law  student. 

Eugdne  bowed  profoundly. 

"This  gentleman,"  she  continued,  presenting  Eugene  to 
her  husband,  "  is  M.  de  Rastignac ;  he  is  related  to  Mme.  la 
Vicomtesse  de  Beaus6ant  through  the  Marcillacs ;  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  him  at  her  last  ball." 
-  Related  to  Mme.  la  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant  through  the 
Marcillacs  /  These  words,  on  which  the  Countess  threw  ever 
so  slight  an  emphasis,  by  reason  of  the  pride  that  the  mistress 
of  the  house  takes  in  showing  that  she  only  receives  people 
of  distinction  as  visitors  in  her  house,  produced  a  magical 
effect.  The  Count's  stiff  manner  relaxed  at  once  as  he  re- 
turned the  student's  bow. 

**  Delighted  to  have  an  opportunity  of  making  your  ac- 
quaintance," he  said. 

Maxime  de  Trailles  himself  gave  Eugene  an  uneasy  glance, 
and  suddenly  dropped  his  insolent  manner.  The  mighty 
name  had  all  the  power  of  a  fairy's  wand ;  those  closed  com- 
partments in  the  southern  brain  fiew  open  again  ;  Rastignac's 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  63 

carefully  drilled  facukics  returned.  It  was  as  if  a  sudden 
light  had  pierced  t!:!e  obscurity  of  this  upper  world  of  Paris, 
and  he  began  to  see,  though  everything  was  indistinct  as 
yet.  Mme.  Vauquer's  lodging-house  and  Father  Goriot  were 
very  far  remote  from  his  thoughts. 

"I  thought  that  the  Marcillacs  were  extinct,"  the  Comte 
de  Restaud  said,  addressing  Eugene. 

"Yes,  they  are  extinct,"  answered  the  law  student.  "  My 
great  uncle,  the  Chevalier  de  Rastignac,  married  the  heiress 
of  the  Marcillac  family.  They  had  only  one  daughter,  who 
married  the  Marechal  de  Clarimbault,  Mme.  de  Beauseant's 
grandfather  on  the  mother's  side.  We  are  the  younger 
branch  of  the  family,  and  the  younger  branch  is  all  the 
poorer  because  my  great-uncle,  the  vice-admiral,  lost  all  that 
he  had  in  the  King's  service.  The  government  during  the 
Revolution  refused  to  admit  our  claims  when  the  Compagnie 
des  Indes  was  liquidated." 

"Was  not  your  great-uncle  in  command  of  the  Vengeur 
before  1789?" 

"Yes." 

"  Then  he  would  be  acquainted  with  my  grandfather,  who 
commanded  the  Warwick^ 

Maxime  looked  at  Mme.  de  Restaud  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  as  much  as  to  say,  "If  he  is  going  to  discuss 
nautical  matters  with  that  fellow,  it  is  all  over  with  us." 
Anastasie  understood  the  glance  that  M.  de  Trailles  gave  her. 
With  a  woman's  admirable  tact  and  shrdewness,  she  began  to 
smile  and  said : 

"  Come  with  me,  Maxime ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
We  will  leave  you  two  gentlemen  to  sail  in  company  on  board 
the  Warwick  and  the  Venggur." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  signed  to  Maxime  to  follow  her, 
mirth  and  mischief  in  her  whole  attitude,  and  the  two  went 
in  the  direction  of  the  boudoir.  The  morganatic  couple  (to 
use   a   convenient   German   expression   which   has   no  exact 


64  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

equivalent)  had  reached  the  door,  when  the  Count  inter- 
rupted himself  in  his  talk  with  Eugdne. 

"Anastasie!"  he  cried  pettishly,  "just  stay  a  moment, 
dear;  you  know  very  well  that " 

"I  am  coming  back  in  a  minute,"  she  interrupted;  "I 
have  a  commission  for  Maxime  to  execute,  and  I  want  to 
tell  him  about  it." 

She  came  back  almost  immediately.  She  had  noticed 
the  inflection  in  her  husband's  voice,  and  knew  that  it  would 
not  be  safe  to  retire  to  the  boudoir :  like  all  women  who  are 
compelled  to  study  their  husband's  characters  in  order  to 
have  their  own  way,  and  whose  business  it  is  to  know  exactly 
how  far  they  can  go  without  endangering  a  good  understand- 
ing, she  was  very  careful  to  avoid  petty  collisions  in  domestic 
life.  It  was  Eugene  who  had  brought  about  this  untoward 
incident ;  so  the  Countess  looked  at  Maxime  and  indicated 
the  law  student  with  an  air  of  exasperation.  M.  de  Trailles 
addressed  the  Count,  the  Countess,  and  Eugene  with  the 
pointed  remark,  "You  are  busy,  I  do  not  want  to  interrupt 
you;  good-day,"  and  he  went. 

"Just  wait  a  moment,  Maxime!  "  the  Count  called  after 
him, 

"Come  and  dine  with  us,"  said  the  Countess,  leaving  Eu- 
gene and  her  husband  together  once  more.  She  followed 
Maxime  into  the  little  drawing-room,  where  they  sat  together 
sufficiently  long  to  feel  sure  that  Rastignac  had  taken  his 
leave. 

The  law  student  heard  their  laughter,  and  their  voices,  and 
the  pauses  in  their  talk  ;  he  grew  malicious,  exerted  his  con- 
versational powers  for  M.  de  Restaud,  flattered  him,  and 
drew  him  into  discussions,  to  the  end  that  he  might  see  the 
Countess  again  and  discover  the  nature  of  her  relations  with 
Father  Goriot.  This  countess,  with  a  husband  and  a  lover, 
for  Maxime  clearly  was  her  lover,  was  a  mystery.  What  was 
the  secret  tie  that  bound  her  to  the  old  tradesman  ?     This 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  65 

mystery  he  meant  to  penetrate,  hoping  by  its  means  to  gain  a 
sovereign  ascendancy  over  this  fair  typical  Parisian. 

'*  Anastasie  !  "  the  Count  called  again  to  his  wife. 

"  Poor  Maxirae  !  "  she  said,  addressing  the  young  man. 
**  Come,  we  must  resign  ourselves.     This  evening " 

"I  hope,  Nasie,"  he  said  in  her  ear,  "that  you  will  give 
orders  not  to  admit  that  youngster,  whose  eyes  light  up  like 
live  coals  when  he  looks  at  you.  He  will  make  you  a  declara- 
tion, and  compromise  you,  and  then  you  will  compel  me  to 
kill  him." 

"  Are  you  mad,  Maxime?  "  she  said.  "A  young  lad  of  a 
student  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  capital  lightning-conductor; 
is  not  that  so?  Of  course,  I  mean  to  make  Restaud  furiously 
jealous  of  him." 

Maxime  burst  out  laughing,  and  went  out,  followed  by 
the  Countess,  who  stood  at  the  window  to  watch  him  into  his 
carriage;  he  shook  his  whip,  and  made  his  horse  prance. 
She  only  returned  when  the  great  gate  had  been  closed  after 
him. 

"What  do  you  think,  dear?"  cried  the  Count,  her  hus- 
band, "  this  gentleman's  family  estate  is  not  far  from  Verteuil, 
on  the  Charente ;  his  great-uncle  and  my  grandfather  were 
acquainted." 

"Delighted  to  find  that  we  have  acquaintances  in  com- 
mon," said  the  Countess,  with  a  preoccupied  manner. 

"  More  than  you  think,"  said  Eugene,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  Why,  only  just  now,"  said  the  student,  "  I  saw  a  gentle- 
man go  out  at  the  gate,  Father  Goriot,  my  next-door  neigh- 
bor in  the  house  where  I  am  lodging." 

At  the  sound  of  this  name,  and  the  prefix  that  embellished 
it,  the  Count,  who  was  stirring  the  fire,  let  the  tongs  fall  as 
though  they  had  burned  his  fingers,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Sir,"  he  cried,  "you  might  have  called  him  'Monsieur 
Goriot ! '  " 
5 


68  FATHER   GORIOT. 

The  Countess  turned  pale  at  first  at  the  sight  of  her  hus- 
band's vexation,  then  she  reddened ;  clearly  she  was  embar- 
rassed, her  answer  was  made  in  a  tone  that  she  tried  to  make 
natural,  and  with  an  air  of  assumed  carelessness — 

*'  You  could  not  know  any  one  who  is  dearer  to  us 
both " 

She  broke  off,  glanced  at  the  piano  as  if  some  fancy  had 
crossed  her  mind,  and  asked,  "Are  you  fond  of  music,  M. 
de  Rastignac?" 

"  Exceedingly,"  answered  Eugdne,  flushing,  and  discon- 
certed by  a  dim  suspicion  that  he  had  somehow  been  guilty 
of  a  clumsy  piece  of  folly. 

"Do  you  sing?"  she  cried,  going  to  the  piano,  and,  sit- 
ting down  before  it,  she  swept  her  fingers  over  the  keyboard 
from  end  to  end.     R-r-r-r-ah  ! 

"  No,  madame." 

The  Comte  de  Restaud  walked  to  and  fro. 

•'  That  is  a  pity  ;  you  are  without  one  great  means  of  suc- 
cess. Ca-ro,  ca-a-ro,  ca-a-a-ro,  non  du-bi-ta-re,^^  sang  the 
Countess. 

Eugene  had  a  second  time  waved  a  magic  wand  when  he 
uttered  Goriot's  name,  but  the  effect  seemed  to  be  entirely 
opposite  to  that  produced  by  the  formula  "  related  to  Mme. 
de  Beaus6ant."  His  position  was  not  unlike  that  of  some 
visitor  permitted  as  a  favor  to  inspect  a  private  collection  of 
curiosities,  when  by  inadvertence  he  comes  into  collision  with 
a  glass  case  full  of  sculptured  figures,  and  three  or  four  heads, 
imperfectly  secured,  fall  at  the  shock.  He  wished  the  earth 
would  open  and  swallow  him.  Mme.  de  Restaud's  expression 
was  reserved  and  chilly,  her  eyes  had  grown  indifferent,  and 
sedulously  avoided  meeting  those  of  the  unlucky  student  of 
law. 

"  Madame,"  he  said,  "  you  wish  to  talk  with  M.  de  Res- 
taud ;  permit  me  to  wish  you  good-day " 

The  Countess  interrupted  him  by  a  gesture,  saying  hastily. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  87 

*'  Whenever  you  come  to  see  us,  both  M.  de  Restaud  and  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  see  you." 

Eugdne  made  a  profound  bow  and  took  his  leave,  followed 
by  M.  de  Restaud,  who  insisted,  in  spite  of  his  remonstrances, 
on  accompanying  him  into  the  hall. 

"  Neither  your  mistress  nor  I  are  at  home  to  that  gentle- 
man when  he  calls,"  the  Count  said  to  Maurice,  his  servant, 
when  the  door  had  closed  after  Eugene. 

As  Eugene  set  foot  on  the  steps,  he  saw  that  it  was  raining. 

**  Come,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  somewhow  I  have  just  made 
a  mess  of  it,  I  do  not  know  how.  And  now  I  am  going  to 
spoil  my  hat  and  coat  into  the  bargain.  I  ought  to  stop  in 
my  corner,  grind  away  at  law,  and  never  look  to  be  anything 
but  a  boorish  country  magistrate.  How  can  I  go  into  society, 
when  to  manage  properly  you  want  a  lot  of  cabs,  varnished 
boots,  gold  watch-chains,  and  all  sorts  of  things ;  you  have 
to  wear  white  doeskin  gloves  that  cost  six  francs  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  primrose  kid  gloves  every  evening?  A  fig  for  that 
old  humbug  of  a  Goriot !  " 

When  he  reached  the  street-door,  the  driver  of  a  hackney 
coach,  who  had  probably  just  deposited  a  wedding  party  at 
their  door,  and  asked  nothing  better  than  a  chance  of  making 
a  little  money  for  himself  without  his  employer's  knowledge, 
saw  that  Eugene  had  no  umbrella,  remarked  his  black  coat, 
white  waistcoat,  yellow  gloves,  and  varnished  boots,  and 
stopped  and  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  Eugene,  in  the  blind 
desperation  that  drives  a  young  man  to  plunge  deeper  and 
deeper  into  an  abyss,  as  if  he  might  hope  to  find  a  fortunate 
issue  in  its  lowest  depths,  nodded  in  reply  to  the  driver's 
signal,  and  stepped  into  the  cab ;  a  few  stray  petals  of  orange 
blossom  and  scraps  of  wire  bore  witness  to  its  recent  occupa- 
tion by  a  wedding  party. 

"  Where  am  I  to  drive,  sir?  "  demanded  the  man,  who,  by 
this  time,  had  taken  off  his  white  gloves. 

"Confound  it!"  Eugene  said  to  himself,  "I  am  in  for 


68  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

it  now,  and  at  least  I  will  not  spend  cab-hire  for  nothing  ! 
Drive  to  the  Hotel  Beauseant,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  Which?  "  asked  the  man,  a  portentous  word  that  reduced 
Eugdne  to  confusion.  This  young  man  of  fashion,  species 
incerta,  did  not  know  that  there  were  two  Hotels  Beauseant ; 
he  was  not  aware  how  rich  he  was  in  relations  who  did  not 
care  about  him. 

"The  Vicomte  de  Beauseant,  Rue " 

**De  Crenelle,"  interrupted  the  driver,  with  a  jerk  of  his 
head.  **  You  see,  there  are  the  hotels  of  the  Marquis  and 
Corate  de  Beauseant  in  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,"  he  added, 
drawing  up  the  step. 

**  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  Eugene,  severely.  "  Every- 
body is  laughing  at  me  to-day,  it  seems  !  "  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  deposited  his  hat  on  the  opposite  seat.  "  This  escapade 
will  cost  me  a  king's  ransom,  but,  at  any  rate,  I  shall  call 
on  my  so-called  cousin  in  a  thoroughly  aristocratic  fashion. 
Goriot  has  cost  me  ten  francs  already,  the  old  scoundrel ! 
My  word  !  I  will  tell  Mme.  de  Beauseant  about  my  adventure ; 
perhaps  it  may  amuse  her.  Doubtless  she  will  know  the  secret 
of  the  criminal  relation  between  that  handsome  woman  and 
the  old  rat  without  a  tail.  It  would  be  better  to  find  favor  in 
my  cousin's  eyes  than  to  come  in  contact  with  that  shameless 
woman,  who  seems  to  me  to  have  very  expensive  tastes.  Surely 
the  beautiful  Vicomtesse's  personal  interest  would  turn  the 
scale  for  me,  when  the  mere  mention  of  her  name  produces 
such  an  effect.  Let  us  look  higher.  If  you  set  yourself  to 
carry  the  heights  of  heaven,  you  must  face  God." 

The  innumerable  thoughts  that  surged  through  his  brain 
might  be  summed  up  in  these  phrases.  He  grew  calmer,  and 
recovered  something  of  his  assurance  as  he  watched  the  falling 
rain.  He  told  himself  that  though  he  was  about  to  squander 
two  of  the  precious  five-franc  pieces  that  remained  to  him,  the 
money  was  well  laid  out  in  preserving  his  coat,  boots,  and  hat ; 
and  his  cabman's  cry  of  "Gate,  if  you  please,"  almost  put 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  69 

him  in  spirits.  A  Swiss,  in  scarlet  and  gold,  appeared,  the 
great  door  groaned  on  its  hinges,  and  Rastignac,  with  sweet 
satisfaction,  beheld  his  equipage  pass  under  the  archway  and 
stop  before  the  flight  of  steps  beneath  the  awning.  The  driver, 
in  a  blue-and-red  greatcoat,  dismounted  and  let  down  the  step. 
As  Eugene  stepped  out  of  the  cab,  he  heard  smothered  laughter 
from  the  peristyle.  Three  or  four  lackeys  were  making  merry 
over  the  festal  appearance  of  the  vehicle.  In  another  moment 
the  law  student  was  enlightened  as  to  the  cause  of  their  hilar- 
ity ;  he  felt  the  full  force  of  the  contrast  between  his  equipage 
and  one  of  the  smartest  broughams  in  Paris ;  a  coachman,  with 
powdered  hair,  seemed  to  find  it  difficult  to  hold  a  pair  of 
spirited  horses,  who  stood  chafing  the  bit.  In  Mme.  de  Res- 
taud's  courtyard,  in  the  Chaussee  d'Antin,  he  had  seen  the 
neat  turnout  of  a  young  man  of  six-and-twenty ;  in  the  Fau- 
bourg Saint-Germain  he  found  the  luxurious  equipage  of  a  man 
of  rank ;  thirty  thousand  francs  would  not  have  purchased  it. 

"  Who  can  be  here?"  said  Eugene  to  himself.  He  began 
to  understand,  though  somewhat  tardily,  that  he  must  not 
expect  to  find  many  women  in  Paris  who  were  not  already 
appropriated,  and  that  the  capture  of  one  of  these  queens 
would  be  likely  to  cost  something  more  than  bloodshed. 
"  Confound  it  all !    I  expect  my  cousin  also  has  her  Maxime." 

He  went  up  the  steps,  feeling  that  he  was  a  blighted  being. 
The  glass  door  was  opened  for  him ;  the  servants  were  as 
solemn  as  jackasses  under  the  currycomb.  So  far,  Eugene 
had  only  been  in  the  ballroom  on  the  ground  floor  of  the 
Hotel  Beaus^ant ',  the  fgte  had  followed  so  closely  on  the  in- 
vitation that  he  had  not  had  time  to  call  on  his  cousin,  and 
had  therefore  never  seen  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  apartments; 
he  was  about  to  behold  for  the  first  time  a  great  lady  among 
the  wonderful  and  elegant  surroundings  that  reveal  her  char- 
acter and  reflect  her  daily  life.  He  was  the  more  curious, 
because  Mme.  de  Restaud's  drawing-room  had  provided  him 
with  a  standard  of  comparison. 


70  FATHER   GORIOT. 

At  half-past  four  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant  was  visible. 
Five  minutes  earlier  she  would  not  have  received  her  cousin, 
but  Eugene  knew  nothing  of  the  recognized  routine  of  various 
houses  in  Paris.  He  was  conducted  up  the  wide,  white- 
painted,  crimson-carpeted  staircase,  between  the  gilded  balus- 
ters and  masses  of  flowering  plants,  to  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant's 
apartments.  He  did  not  know  the  rumor  current  about  Mme. 
de  Beaus6ant,  one  of  the  biographies  told,  with  variations,  in 
whispers,  every  evening  in  the  salons  of  Paris. 

For  three  years  past  her  name  had  been  spoken  of  in  con- 
nection with  that  of  one  of  the  most  wealthy  and  distinguished 
Portuguese  nobles,  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda-Pinto.  It  was  one 
of  those  innocent  liaisons  which  possess  so  much  charm  for 
the  two  thus  attached  to  each  other  that  they  find  the  presence 
of  a  third  person  intolerable.  The  Vicomte  de  Beausdant, 
therefore,  had  himself  set  an  example  to  the  rest  of  the  world 
by  respecting,  with  as  good  a  grace  as  might  be,  this  morgan- 
atic union.  Any  one  who  came  to  call  on  the  Vicomtesse  in 
the  early  days  of  this  friendship  was  sure  to  find  the  Marquis 
d'Ajuda-Pinto  there.  As,  under  the  circumstances,  Mme.  de 
Beaus6ant  could  not  very  well  shut  her  door  against  these 
visitors,  she  gave  them  such  a  cold  reception,  and  showed  so 
much  interest  in  the  study  of  the  ceiling,  that  no  one  could 
fail  to  understand  how  much  he  bored  her;  and  when  it 
became  known  in  Paris  that  Mme.  de  Beauseant  was  bored 
by  callers  between  two  and  four  o'clock,  she  was  left  in  per- 
fect solitude  during  that  interval.  She  went  to  the  Bouffons 
or  to  the  Op6ra  with  M.  de  Beauseant  and  M.  d'Ajuda-Pinto ; 
and  M.  de  Beauseant,  like  a  well-bred  man  of  the  world, 
always  left  his  wife  and  the  Portuguese  as  soon  as  he  had 
installed  them.  But  M.  d'Ajuda-Pinto  must  marry,  and  a 
Mile,  de  Rochefide  was  the  young  lady.  In  the  whole  fash- 
ionable world  there  was  but  one  person  who  as  yet  knew 
nothing  of  the  arrangement,  and  that  was  Mme.  de  Beauseant. 
Some  of  her  friends  had  hinted  at  the  possibility,  and  she  had 


FATHER   GORIOT.  71 

laughed  at  them,  believing  that  envy  had  prompted  those 
ladies  to  try  to  make  mischief.  And  now,  though  the  banns 
were  about  to  be  published,  and  although  the  handsome 
Portuguese  had  come  that  day  to  break  the  news  to  the 
Vicomtesse,  he  had  not  found  courage  as  yet  to  say  one  word 
about  his  treachery.  How  was  it  ?  Nothing  is  doubtless  more 
difficult  than  the  notification  of  an  ultimatum  of  this  kind. 
There  are  men  who  feel  more  at  their  ease  when  they  stand 
up  before  another  man  who  threatens  their  lives  with  sword 
or  pistol  than  in  the  presence  of  a  woman  who,  after  two 
hours  of  lamentations  and  reproaches,  falls  into  a  dead  swoon 
and  requires  salts.  At  this  moment,  therefore,  M.  d'Ajuda- 
Pinto  was  on  thorns,  and  anxious  to  take  his  leave.  He  told 
himself  that  in  some  way  or  other  the  news  would  reach  Mme. 
de  Beaus^ant ;  he  would  write,  it  would  be  much  better  to  do 
it  by  letter,  and  not  to  utter  the  words  that  should  stab  her 
to  the  heart. 

So  when  the  servant  announced  M.  Eugdne  de  Rastignac, 
the  Marquis  d'Ajuda-Pinto  trembled  with  joy.  To  be  sure, 
a  loving  woman  shows  even  more  ingenuity  in  inventing 
doubts  of  her  lover  than  in  varying  the  monotony  of  his 
happiness;  and  when  she  is  about  to  be  forsaken,  she  instinc- 
tively interprets  every  gesture  as  rapidly  as  Virgil's  courser 
detected  the  presence  of  his  companion  by  snuffing  the  breeze. 
It  was  impossible,  therefore,  that  Mme.  de  Beauseant  should 
not  detect  that  involuntary  thrill  of  satisfaction  ;  slight  though 
it  was,  it  was  appalling  in  its  artlessness. 

Eugene  had  yet  to  learn  that  no  one  in  Paris  should  present 
himself  in  any  house  without  first  making  himself  acquainted 
with  the  whole  history  of  its  owner,  and  of  its  owner's  wife 
and  family,  so  that  he  may  avoid  making  any  of  the  terrible 
blunders  which  in  Poland  draw  forth  the  picturesque  exclama- 
tion, "  Harness  five  bullocks  to  your  cart !  "  probably  because 
you  will  need  them  all  to  pull  you  out  of  the  quagmire  into 
which  a  false  step  has  plunged  you.     If,  down  to  the  present 


72  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

day,  our  language  has  no  name  for  these  conversational  dis- 
asters, it  is  probably  because  they  are  believed  to  be  impos- 
sible, the  publicity  given  in  Paris  to  every  scandal  is  so 
prodigious.  After  the  awkward  incident  at  Mme.  de  Restaud's, 
no  one  but  Eugene  could  have  reappeared  in  his  character  of 
bullock-driver  in  Mme.  de  Beaus&ant's  drawing-room.  But 
if  Mme.  de  Restaud  and  M.  de  Trailles  had  found  him  hor- 
ribly in  the  way,  M.  d'Ajuda-Pinto  hailed  his  coming  with^ 
relief. 

"Good-bye,"  said  the  Portuguese,  hurrying  to  the  door, 
as  Eugene  made  his  entrance  into  a  dainty  little  pink-and-gray 
drawing-room,  where  luxury  seemed  nothing  more  than  good 
taste. 

"Until  this  evening,"  said  Mme.  de  Beauseant,  turning 
her  head  to  give  the  Marquis  a  glance.  "  We  are  going  to  the 
Bouffons,  are  we  not  ?  ' ' 

"  I  cannot  go,"  he  said,  with  his  fingers  on  the  door- 
handle. A 

Mme.  de  Beauseant  rose  and  beckoned  to  him  to  return. 
She  did  not  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  Eugene,  who  stood 
there  dazzled  by  the  sparkling  marvels  around  him ;  he  began 
to  think  that  this  was  some  story  out  of  the  "  Arabian  Nights  " 
made  real,  and  did  not  know  where  to  hide  himself,  when  the 
woman  before  him  seemed  to  be  unconscious  of  his  existence. 
The  Vicomtesse  had  raised  the  forefinger  of  her  right  hand, 
and  gracefully  signed  to  the  Marquis  to  seat  himself  beside 
her.  The  Marquis  felt  the  imperious  sway  of  passion  in  her 
gesture ;  he  came  back  towards  her.  Eugene  watched  him, 
not  without  a  feeling  of  envy. 

'*  That  is  the  owner  of  the  brougham  !  "  he  said  to  himself. 
**  But  is  it  necessary  to  have  a  pair  of  spirited  horses,  servants 
in  livery,  and  torrents  of  gold  to  draw  a  glance  from  a  woman 
here  in  Paris?" 

The  demon  of  luxury  gnawed  at  his  heart,  greed  burned  in 
his  veins,  his  throat  was  parched  with  the  thirst  of  gold. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  73 

He  had  a  hundred  and  thirty  francs  every  quarter.  His 
father,  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  and  aunt  did  not  spend  two 
hundred  francs  a  month  among  them.  This  swift  comparison 
between  his  present  condition  and  the  aims  he  had  in  view 
helped  to  benumb  his  faculties. 

"  Why  not?"  the  Vicomtesse  was  saying,  as  she  smiled  at 
the  Portuguese.     "  Why  can  you  not  come  to  the  Italiens?  " 

"  Affairs  !  I  am  to  dine  with  the  English  ambassador." 

"  Throw  him  over." 

When  a  man  once  enters  on  a  course  of  deception,  he  is 
compelled  to  add  lie  to  lie.  M.  d'Ajuda  therefore  said, 
smiling,  "  Do  you  lay  your  commands  on  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"That  was  what  I  wanted  to  have  you  say  to  me,"  he 
answered,  dissembling  his  feelings  in  a  glance  which  would 
have  reassured  any  other  woman. 

He  took  the  Vicomtesse's  hand,  kissed  it,  and  went. 

Eugene  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  and  constrained 
himself  to  bow.  He  thought  that  now  Mme.  de  Beausdant 
would  give  him  her  attention  ;  but  suddenly  she  sprang  for- 
ward, rushed  to  a  window  in  the  gallery,  and  watched 
M.  d'Ajuda  step  into  his  carriage ;  she  listened  to  the  order 
that  he  gave,  and  heard  the  Swiss  repeat  it  to  the  coachman — 

"  To  M.  de  Rochefide's  house." 

Those  words,  and  the  way  in  which  M.  d'Ajuda  flung  him- 
self back  in  the  carriage,  were  like  a  lightning  flash  and  a 
thunderbolt  for  her ;  she  walked  back  again  with  a  deadly 
fear  gnawing  at  her  heart.  The  most  terrible  catastrophes 
only  happen  among  the  heights.  The  Vicomtesse  went  to  her 
own  room,  sat  down  at  a  table,  and  took  up  a  sheet  of  dainty 
note-paper. 

"When,  instead  of  dining  with  the  English  ambassador," 
she  wrote,  "  you  go  to  the  Rochefides,  you  owe  me  an  ex- 
planation, which  I  am  waiting  to  hear." 


74  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

She  retraced  several  of  the  letters,  for  her  hand  was  trem- 
bling so  that  they  were  indistinct ;  then  she  signed  the  note 
with  an  initial  C.  for  "  Claire  de  Bourgogne,"  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"Jacques,"  she  said  to  the  servant,  who  appeared  imme- 
diately, "  take  this  note  to  M.  de  Rochefide's  house  at  half- 
past  seven,  and  ask  for  the  Marquis  d' Ajuda.  If  M.  d' Ajuda 
is  there,  leave  the  note  without  waiting  for  an  answer ;  if  he 
is  not  there,  bring  the  note  back  to  me." 

"  Madame  la  Vicoratesse,  there  is  a  visitor  in  the  drawing- 
room." 

"Ah  f  yes,  of  course,"  she  said,  opening  the  door. 

Eugene  was  beginning  to  feel  very  uncomfortable,  but  at 
last  the  Vicomtesse  appeared ;  she  spoke  to  him,  and  the 
tremulous  tones  of  her  voice  vibrated  through  his  heart. 

**  Pardon  me,  monsieur,"  she  said  ;  **I  had  a  letter  to  write. 
Now  I  am  quite  at  liberty." 

She  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  saying,  for  even  as  she 
spoke  she  thought,  "  Ah  !  he  means  to  marry  Mile,  de  Roche- 
fide  !     But  is  he  still  free  ?     This  evening  the  marriage  shall 

be  broken  off,  or  else But  before   to-morrow  I  shall 

know." 

"  Cousin "  the  student  replied. 

"Eh?"  said  the  Countess,  with  an  insolent  glance  that 
sent  a  cold  shudder  through  Eugene ;  he  understood  what 
that  "Eh?"  meant;  he  had  learned  a  great  deal  in  three 
hours,  and  his  wits  were  on  the  alert.     He  reddened — 

"Madame "  he  began;  he  hesitated  a  moment,   and 

then  went  on.  "  Pardon  me ;  I  am  in  such  need  of  protec- 
tion that  the  merest  scrap  of  relationship  could  do  me  no 
harm." 

Mme.  de  Beaus6ant  smiled,  but  there  was  sadness  in  her 
smile ;  even  now  she  felt  forebodings  of  the  coming  pain, 
the  air  she  breathed  was  heavy  with  the  storm  that  was  about 
to  burst. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  76 

"  If  you  knew  how  my  family  are  situated,"  he  went  on, 
**  you  would  love  to  play  the  part  of  a  beneficent  fairy  god- 
mother who  graciously  clears  the  obstacles  from  the  path  of 
her  protege." 

"  Well,  cousin,"  she  said  laughing,  "and  how  can  I  be  of 
service  to  you?" 

"  But  do  I  know  even  that  ?  I  am  distantly  related  to  you, 
and  this  obscure  and  remote  relationship  is  even  now  a  per- 
fect godsend  to  me.  You  have  confused  my  ideas ;  I  cannot 
remember  the  things  that  I  meant  to  say  to  you.     I  know  no 

one  else  here  in  Paris Ah !  if  I  could  only  ask  you  to 

counsel  me,  ask  you  to  look  upon  me  as  a  poor  child  who 
would  fain  cling  to  the  hem  of  your  dress,  who  would  lay 
down  his  life  for  you." 

"  Would  you  kill  a  man  for  me  ?  " 

"Two,"  said  Eugene. 

"You,  child  !  Yes,  you  are  a  child,"  she  said,  keeping 
back  the  tears  that  came  to  her  eyes ;  "  you  would  love 
sincerely." 

**  Oh  !  "  he  cried,  flinging  up  his  head. 

The  audacity  of  the  student's  answer  interested  the  Vicom- 
tesse  in  him.  The  southern  brain  was  beginning  to  scheme 
for  the  first  time.  Between  Mme.  de  Restaud's  blue  boudoir 
and  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  rose-colored  drawing-room  he  had 
made  a  three  years'  advance  in  a  kind  of  law  which  is  not  a 
recognized  study  in  Paris,  although  it  is  a  sort  of  higher  juris- 
prudence, and,  when  well  understood,  is  a  high-road  to  suc- 
cess of  every  kind. 

"Ah!  this  is  what  I  meant  to  say!  "  said  Eugene.  **I 
met  Mme.  de  Restaud  at  your  ball,  and  this  morning  I  went 
to  see  her." 

"  You  must  have  been  very  much  in  the  way,"  said  Mme. 
de  Beaus6ant,  smiling  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  indeed.  I  am  a  novice,  and  my  blunders  will  set 
every  one  against  me,  if  you  do  not  give  me  your  counsel.     I 


76  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

believe  that  in  Paris  it  is  very  difficult  to  meet  with  a  young, 
beautiful,  and  wealthy  woman  of  fashion  who  would  be  will- 
ing to  teach  me,  what  you  women  can  explain  so  well — life. 
I  shall  find  a  M.  de  Trailles  everywhere.  So  I  have  come  to 
you  to  ask  you  to  give  me  a  key  to  a  puzzle,  to  entreat  you  to 
tell  me  what  sort  of  blunder  I  made  this  morning.  I  men- 
tioned an  old  man " 

"  Madame  la  Duchesse  de  Langeais ! "  Jacques  cut  the  student 
short ;  Eugdne  gave  expression  to  his  intense  annoyance  by  a 
gesture. 

"If  you  mean  to  succeed,"  said  the  Vicomtesse  in  a  low 
voice,  "  in  the  first  place  you  must  not  be  so  demonstrative." 

*'  Ah  !  good-morning,  dear,"  she  continued,  and,  rising  and 
crossing  the  room,  she  grasped  the  Duchess'  hand  as  affec- 
tionately as  if  they  had  been  sisters ;  the  Duchess  responded 
in  the  prettiest  and  most  gracious  way. 

"Two  intimate  friends!"  said  Rastignac  to  himself. 
**  Henceforward  I  shall  have  two  protectresses ;  those  two 
women  are  great  friends,  no  doubt,  and  this  new-comer  will 
doubtless  interest  herself  in  her  friend's  cousin." 

**To  what  happy  inspiration  do  I  owe  this  piece  of  good 
fortune,  dear  Antoinette  ?"  asked  Mme.  de  Beaus6ant. 

"  Well,  I  saw  M.  d'Ajuda-Pinto  at  M.  de  Rochefide's  door, 
so  I  thought  that  if  I  came  I  should  find  you  alone." 

Mme.  de  Beaus6ant's  mouth  did  not  tighten,  her  color  did 
not  rise,  her  expression  did  not  alter,  or  rather,  her  brow 
seemed  to  clear  as  the  Duchess  uttered  those  deadly  words. 

**  If  I  had  known  that  you  were  engaged "  the  speaker 

added,  glancing  at  Eugdne. 

*•  This  gentleman  is  M.  Eugene  de  Rastignac,  one  of  my 
cousins,"  said  the  Vicomtesse.  "Have  you  any  news  of 
General  de  Montriveau  ?  "  she  continued.  "Serizytold  me 
yesterday  that  he  never  goes  anywhere  now ;  has  he  been  to 
see  you  to-day  ?" 

It  was  believed  that  the  Duchess  was  desperately  in  love 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  Tt 

with  M.  de  Montriveau,  and  that  he  was  a  faithless  lover ; 
she  felt  the  question  in  her  very  heart,  and  her  face  flushed  as 
she  answered. 

* '  He  was  at  the  Elysee  yesterday. ' ' 

"  In  attendance  ?  " 

"Claire,"  returned  the  Duchess,  and  hatred  overflowed  in 
the  glances  she  threw  at  Mme.  de  Beauseant ;  "  of  course  you 
know  that  M.  d'Ajuda-Pinto  is  going  to  marry  Mile,  de  Roche- 
fide  ;  the  banns  will  be  published  to-morrow," 

This  thrust  was  too  cruel ;  the  Vicomtesse's  face  grew 
white,  but  she  answered,  laughing,  "One  of  those  rumors 
that  fools  amuse  themselves  with.  What  should  induce  M. 
d'Ajuda  to  take  one  of  the  noblest  names  in  Portugal  to  the 
Rochefides  ?    The  Rochefides  were  only  ennobled  yesterday." 

"  But  Bertha  will  have  two  hundred  thousand  livres  a  year, 
they  say." 

"  M.  d'Ajuda  is  too  wealthy  to  marry  for  money." 

"  But,  my  dear,  Mile,  de  Rochefide  is  a  charming  girl." 

"Indeed?" 

"  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  is  dining  with  them  to-day; 
the  thing  is  settled.  It  is  very  surprising  to  me  that  you 
should  know  so  little  about  it." 

Mme.  de  Beauseant  turned  to  Rastignac.  "  What  was  the 
blunder  that  you  made,  monsieur?"  she  asked.  "The  poor 
boy  is  only  just  launched  into  the  world,  Antoinette,  so  that 
he  understands  nothing  of  all  this  that  we  are  speaking  of. 
Be  merciful  to  him,  and  let  us  finish  our  talk  to-morrow. 
Everything  will  be  announced  to-morrow,  you  know,  and 
your  kind  informal  communication  can  be  accompanied  by 
official  confirmation." 

The  Duchess  gave  Eugene  one  of  those  insolent  glances 
that  measure  a  man  from  head  to  foot  and  leave  him  crushed 
and  annihilated. 

"  Madame,  I  have  unwittingly  plunged  a  dagger  into  Mme. 
de  Restaud's  heart ;  unwittingly — therein  lies  my  offense," 


78  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

said  the  student  of  law,  whose  keen  brain  had  served  him  suf- 
ficiently well,  for  he  had  detected  the  biting  epigrams  that 
lurked  beneath  this  friendly  talk.  "  You  continue  to  receive, 
possibly  you  fear,  those  who  know  the  amount  of  pain  that 
they  deliberately  inflict ;  but  a  clumsy  blunderer  who  has  no 
idea  how  deeply  he  wounds  is  looked  upon  as  a  fool  who  does 
not  know  how  to  make  use  of  his  opportunities,  and  every 
one  despises  him." 

Mme.  de  Beauseant  gave  the  student  a  glance,  one  of  those 
glances  in  which  a  great  soul  can  mingle  dignity  and  grati- 
tude. It  was  like  balm  to  the  law  student,  who  was  still 
smarting  under  the  Duchess'  insolent  scrutiny ;  she  had  looked 
at  him  as  an  auctioneer  might  look  at  some  article  to  appraise 
its  value. 

"  Imagine,  too,  that  I  had  just  made  some  progress  with  the 
Comte  de  Restaud;  for  I  should  tell  you,  madame,"  he  went 
on,  turning  to  the  Duchess  with  a  mixture  of  humility  and 
malice  in  his  manner,  **  that  as  yet  I  am  only  a  poor  devil  of 
a  student,  very  much  alone  in  the  world,  and  very  poor " 

"  You  should  not  tell  us  that,  M.  de  Rastignac.  We  women 
never  care  about  anything  that  no  one  else  will  take." 

"Bah!"  said  Eugene.  "I  am  only  two-and-twenty,  and 
I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  the  drawbacks  of  my  time  of 
life.  Besides,  I  am  confessing  my  sins,  and  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  kneel  in  a  more  charming  confessional ;  you  com- 
mit your  sins  in  one  drawing-room,  and  receive  absolution  for 
them  in  another." 

The  Duchess'  expression  grew  colder ;  she  did  not  like  the 
flippant  tone  of  these  remarks,  and  showed  that  she  considered 
them  to  be  in  bad  taste  by  turning  to  the  Vicomtesse  with — 
**  This  gentleman  has  only  just  come " 

Mme.  de  Beausdant  began  to  laugh  outright  at  her  cousin 
and  at  the  Duchess  both. 

'*  He  has  only  just  come  to  Paris,  dear,  and  is  in  search  of 
some  one  who  will  give  him  lessons  in  good  taste." 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  1% 

"Mme.  la  Duchesse,"  said  Eugene,  "is  it  not  natural  to 
wish  to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  which  charm  us?" 
("Come,  now,"  he  said  to  himself,  "my  language  is  super- 
finely  elegant,  I'm  sure.") 

"  But  Mme.  de  Restaud  is  herself,  I  believe,  M,  de  Trailles' 
pupil,"  said  the  Duchess. 

"Of  that  I  had  no  idea,  madame,"  answered  the  law  stu- 
dent, "so  I  rashly  came  between  them.  In  fact,  I  got  on 
very  well  with  the  lady's  husband,  and  his  wife  tolerated  me 
for  a  time  until  I  took  it  into  my  head  to  tell  them  that  I 
knew  some  one  of  whom  I  had  just  caught  a  glimpse  as  he 
went  out  by  a  back  staircase,  a  man  who  had  given  the  Coun- 
tess a  kiss  at  the  end  of  a  passage." 

"  Who  was  it  ?  "  both  women  asked  together. 

"  An  old  man  who  lives  at  the  rate  of  two  louis  a  month  in 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Marceau,  where  I,  a  poor  student,  lodge 
likewise.  He  is  a  truly  unfortunate  creature,  everybody  laughs 
at  him — we  call  him  Father  Goriot." 

"Why,  child  that  you  are,"  cried  the  Vicomtesse,  "Mme. 
de  Restaud  was  a  Mile.  Goriot !  " 

"  The  daughter  of  a  vermicelli  manufacturer,"  the  Duchess 
added  ;  "and  when  the  little  creature  went  to  court,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  pastry-cook  was  presented  on  the  same  day.  Do  you 
remember,  Claire?  The  King  began  to  laugh,  and  made 
some  joke  in  Latin  about  flour.  People — what  was  it? — 
people " 

^^Ejusdem  farina f^  said  Eugene. 

"Yes,  that  was  it,"  said  the  Duchess. 

"Ohl  is  that  her  father?"  the  law  student  continued, 
aghast. 

"  Yes,  certainly ;  the  old  man  had  two  daughters ;  he  dotes 
on  them,  so  to  speak,  though  they  will  scarcely  acknowledge 
him." 

"Didn't  the  second  daughter  marry  a  banker  with  a  Ger- 
man  name?"  the  Vicomtesse  asked,  turning  to  Mme.  de 


80  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Langeais,  "  a  Baron  de  Nucingen?  And  her  name  is  Del- 
phinc,  is  it  not?  Isn't  she  a  fair-haired  woman  who  has  a 
side-box  at  the  Opera  ?  She  comes  sometimes  to  the  Bou£fons, 
and  laughs  loudly  to  attract  attention." 

The  Duchess  smiled  and  said — 

"I  wonder  at  you,  dear.  Why  do  you  take  so  much  in- 
terest in  people  of  that  kind  ?  One  must  have  been  as  madly 
in  love  as  Restaud  was,  to  be  infatuated  with  Mile.  Anastasie 
and  her  flour-sacks.  Oh !  he  will  not  find  her  a  good  bar- 
gain !  She  is  in  M.  de  Trailles'  hands,  and  he  will  ruin 
her." 

"And  they  do  not  acknowledge  their  father!"  Eugene 
repeated. 

"Oh!  well,  yes,  their  father,  the  father,  a  father,"  replied 
the  Vicomtesse,  "a  kind  father  who  gave  them  each  five  or 
six  hundred  thousand  francs,  it  is  said,  to  secure  their  happi- 
ness by  marrying  them  well ;  while  he  only  kept  eight  or  ten 
thousand  livres  a  year  for  himself,  thinking  that  his  daughters 
would  always  be  his  daughters,  thinking  that  in  them  he 
would  live  his  life  twice  over  again,  that  in  their  houses  he 
should  find  two  homes,  where  he  would  be  loved  and  looked 
up  to,  and  made  much  of.  And  in  two  years'  time  both  his 
sons-in-law  had  turned  him  out  of  their  houses  as  if  he  were 
one  of  the  lowest  outcasts." 

Tears  came  into  Eugene's  eyes.  He  was  still  under  the 
spell  of  youthful  beliefs,  he  had  but  just  left  home,  pure  and 
sacred  feelings  had  been  stirred  within  him,  and  this  was  his 
first  day  on  the  battlefield  of  civilization  in  Paris.  Genuine 
feeling  is  so  infectious  that  for  a  moment  the  three  looked  at 
each  other  in  silence. 

^^  Eh,  man  Dieu!'^  said  Mme.  de  Langeais;  "yes,  it 
seems  very  horrible,  and  yet  we  see  such  things  every  day. 
Is  there  not  a  reason  for  it  ?  Tell  me,  dear,  have  you  ever 
really  thought  what  a  son-in-law  is  ?  A  son-in-law  is  the  man 
for  whom  we  bring  up,  you  and  I,  a  dear  little  one,  bound  to 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  81 

US  very  closely  in  innumerable  ways  ;  for  seventeen  years  she 
will  be  the  joy  of  her  family,  its  'white  soul,'  as  Lamartine 
says,  and  suddenly  she  will  become  its  scourge.  When  he 
comes  and  takes  her  from  us,  his  love  from  the  very  begin- 
ning is  like  an  axe  laid  to  the  root  of  all  the  old  affection  in 
our  darling's  heart,  and  all  the  ties  that  bound  her  to  her 
family  are  severed.  But  yesterday  our  little  daughter  thought 
of  no  one  but  her  mother  and  father,  as  we  had  no  thought 
that  was  not  for  her ;  by  to-morrow  she  will  have  become  a 
hostile  stranger.  The  tragedy  is  always  going  on  under  our 
eyes.  On  the  one  hand  you  see  a  father  who  has  sacrificed 
himself  to  his  son,  and  his  daughter-in-law  shows  him  the  last 
degree  of  insolence.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  the  son-in-law 
who  turns  his  wife's  mother  out  of  the  house.  I  sometimes 
hear  it  said  that  there  is  nothing  dramatic  about  society  in 
these  days ;  but  the  Drama  of  the  Son-in-law  is  appalling,  to 
say  nothing  of  our  marriages,  which  have  come  to  be  very 
poor  farces.  I  can  explain  how  it  all  came  about  in  the  old 
vermicelli-maker's  case.     I  think  I  recollect  that  Foriot — " 

"Goriot,  madame." 

"Yes,  that  Moriot  was  once  president  of  his  section  dur- 
ing the  Revolution.  He  was  in  the  secret  of  the  famous 
scarcity  of  grain,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his  fortune  in 
those  days  by  selling  flour  for  ten  times  its  cost.  He  had  as 
much  flour  as  he  wanted.  My  grandmother's  steward  sold 
him  immense  quantities.  No  doubt  Noriot  shared  the  plunder 
with  the  Committee  of  Public  Salvation,  as  that  sort  of  per- 
son always  did.  I  recollect  the  steward  telling  my  grand- 
mother that  she  might  liveatGrandvilliersin  complete  security, 
because  her  corn  was  as  good  as  a  certificate  of  civism.  Well, 
then,  this  Loriot,  who  sold  corn  to  those  butchers,  has  never 
had  but  one  passion,  they  say — he  idolizes  his  daughters.  He 
settled  one  of  them  under  Restaud's  roof,  and  grafted  the 
other  into  the  Nucingen  family  tree,  the  Baron  de  Nucingen 
being  a  rich  banker  who  had  turned  Royalist.  You  can  quite 
6 


82  FATHER   GORIOT. 

understand  that  so  long  as  Bonaparte  was  Emperor,  the  two 
sons>in-law  could  manage  to  put  up  with  old  Ninety-three ; 
but  after  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  M,  de  Restaud  felt 
bored  by  the  old  man's  society,  and  the  banker  was  still  more 
tired  of  it.  His  daughters  were  still  fond  of  him ;  they 
wanted  'to  keep  the  goat  and  the  cabbage,'  so  they  used  to 
see  the  Joriot  whenever  there  was  no  one  there,  under  pre- 
tense of  affection.  'Come  to-day,  papa,  we  shall  have  you 
all  to  ourselves,  and  that  will  be  much  nicer ! '  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  As  for  me,  dear,  I  believe  that  love  has  second 
sight :  poor  Ninety-three,  his  heart  must  have  bled  !  He  saw 
that  his  daughters  were  ashamed  of  him,  that  if  they  loved  their 
husbands  his  visits  must  make  mischief.  So  he  immolated 
himself.  He  made  the  sacrifice  because  he  was  a  father ;  he 
went  into  voluntary  exile.  His  daughters  were  satisfied,  so 
he  thought  that  he  had  done  the  best  thing  he  could  ;  but  it  was 
a  family  crime,  and  father  and  daughters  were  accomplices. 
You  see  this  sort  of  thing  everywhere.  What  could  this  Father 
Doriot  have  been  but  a  splash  of  mud  in  his  daughters'  draw- 
ing-rooms? He  would  only  have  been  in  the  way  and  bored 
other  people,  besides  being  bored  himself.  And  this  that 
happened  between  father  and  daughters  may  happen  to  the 
prettiest  woman  in  Paris  and  the  man  she  loves  best ;  if 
her  love  grows  tiresome,  he  will  go ;  he  will  descend  to  the 
basest  trickery  to  leave  her.  It  is  the  same  with  all  love 
and  friendship.  Our  heart  is  a  treasury ;  if  you  pour  out  all 
its  wealth  at  once,  you  are  bankrupt.  We  show  no  more 
mercy  to  the  affection  that  reveals  its  utmost  extent  than  we  do 
to  another  kind  of  prodigal  who  has  not  a  penny  left.  Their 
father  had  given  them  all  he  had.  For  twenty  years  he  had 
given  his  whole  heart  to  them  ;  then,  one  day,  he  gave  them 
all  his  fortune  too.  The  lemon  was  squeezed ;  the  girls  left 
the  rest  in  the  gutter." 

"The  world  is  very  base,"  said  the  Vicomtesse,  plucking 
at  the  threads  of  her  shawl.     See  did  not  raise  her  eyes  as 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  83 

she  spoke;  the  words  that  Mrae.  de  Langeais  had  meant  for 
her  in  the  course  of  the  story  had  cut  her  to  the  quick. 

"Base?  Oh,  no,"  answered  the  Duchess;  "the  world 
goes  its  own  way,  that  is  all.  If  I  speak  in  this  way,  it  is 
only  to  show  that  I  am  not  duped  by  it.  I  think  as  you  do," 
she  said,  pressing  the  Vicoratesse's  hand.  "The  world  is  a 
slough ;  let  us  try  to  live  on  the  heights  above  it." 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  kissed  Mme.  de  Beauseant  on  the 
forehead  as  she  said  :  "  You  look  very  charming  to-day,  dear. 
I  have  never  seen  such  a  lovely  color  in  your  cheeks  before." 

Then  she  went  out,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head  to 
the  cousin. 

"  Father  Goriot  is  sublime  !  "  said  Eugene  to  himself,  as 
he  remembered  how  he  had  watched  his  neighbor  work  the 
silver  vessel  into  a  shapeless  mass  that  night. 

Mme.  de  Beauseant  did  not  hear  him  ;  she  was  absorbed  in 
her  own  thoughts.  For  several  minutes  the  silence  remained 
unbroken  till  the  law  student  became  almost  paralyzed  with 
embarrassment,  and  was  equally  afraid  to  go  or  stay  or  speak 
a  word. 

"  The  world  is  basely  ungrateful  and  ill-natured,"  said  the 
Vicomtesse  at  last.  "  No  sooner  does  a  trouble  befall  you 
than  a  friend  is  ready  to  bring  the  tidings  and  to  probe  your 
heart  with  the  point  of  a  dagger  while  calling  on  you  to 
admire  the  handle.  Epigrams  and  sarcasms  already  !  Ah ! 
I  will  defend  myself!  " 

She  raised  her  head  like  the  great  lady  that  she  was,  and 
lightnings  flashed  from  her  proud  eyes. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  as  she  saw  Eugdne,  "  are  you  there?  " 

"Still,"  he  said  piteously. 

"  Well,  then,  M.  de  Rastignac,  deal  with  the  world  as  it 
deserves.  You  are  determined  to  succeed  ?  I  will  help  you. 
You  shall  sound  the  depths  of  corruption  in  woman  ;  you 
shall  measure  the  extent  of  man's  pitiful  vanity.  Deeply  as  I 
am  versed  in  such  learning,  there  were  pages  in  the  book  of 


84  FATHER   GORIOT. 

life  that  I  had  not  read.  Now  I  know  all.  The  more  cold- 
blooded your  calculations,  the  farther  you  will  go.  Strike 
ruthlessly ;  you  will  be  feared.  Men  and  women  for  you 
must  be  nothing  more  than  post-horses  \  take  a  fresh  relay, 
and  leave  the  last  to  drop  by  the  roadside ;  in  this  way  you 
will  reach  the  goal  of  your  ambition.  You  will  be  nothing 
here,  you  see,  unless  a  woman  interests  herself  in  youj  and 
she  must  be  young  and  wealthy,  and  a  woman  of  the  world. 
Yet,  if  you  have  a  heart,  lock  it  carefully  away  like  a  trea- 
sure ;  do  not  let  any  one  suspect  it,  or  you  will  be  lost ;  you 
would  cease  to  be  the  executioner,  you  would  take  the  victim's 
place.  And  if  ever  you  should  love,  never  let  your  secret 
escape  you  !  Trust  no  one  until  you  are  very  sure  of  the  heart 
to  which  you  open  your  heart.  Learn  to  mistrust  every  one  ; 
take  every  precaution  for  the  sake  of  the  love  which  does  not 
exist  as  yet.  Listen,  Miguel  " — the  name  slipped  from  her  so 
naturally  that  she  did  not  notice  her  mistake-^"  there  is  some- 
thing still  more  appalling  than  the  ingratitude  of  daughters 
who  have  cast  off  their  old  father  and  wish  that  he  were  dead, 
and  that  is  a  rivalry  between  the  two  sisters.  Restaud  comes 
of  a  good  family  ;  his  wife  has  been  received  into  their  circle ; 
she  has  been  presented  at  court ;  and  her  sister,  her  wealthy 
sister,  Mme.  Delphine  de  Nucingen,  the  wife  of  a  great 
capitalist,  is  consumed  with  envy,  and  ready  to  die  of  spleen. 
There  is  a  gulf  set  between  the  sisters — indeed,  they  are 
sisters  no  longer — the  two  women  who  refuse  to  acknowledge 
their  father  do  not  acknowledge  each  other.  So  Mme.  de 
Nucingen  would  lap  all  the  mud  that  lies  between  the  Rue 
Saint-Lazare  and  the  Rue  de  Crenelle  to  gain  admittance  to 
my  salon.  She  fancied  that  she  should  gain  her  end  through 
de  Marsay ;  she  has  made  herself  de  Marsay's  slave,  and  she 
bores  him.  De  Marsay  cares  very  little  about  her.  If  you 
will  introduce  her  to  me,  you  will  be  her  darling,  her  Ben- 
jamin ;  she  will  idolize  you.  If,  after  that,  you  can  love  her, 
do  so  ;  if  not,  make  her  useful.     I  will  ask  her  to  come  once 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  85 

or  twice  to  one  of  my  great  crushes,  but  I  will  never  receive 
her  here  in  the  morning.  I  will  bow  to  her  when  I  see  her, 
and  that  will  be  quite  sufficient.  You  have  shut  the  Comtesse 
de  Restaud's  door  against  you  by  mentioning  Father  Goriot's 
name.  Yes,  my  good  friend,  you  may  call  at  her  house 
twenty  times,  and  every  time  out  of  the  twenty  you  will  find 
that  she  is  not  at  home.  The  servants  have  their  orders,  and 
will  not  admit  you.  Very  well,  then,  now  let  Father  Goriot 
gain  the  right  of  entry  into  her  sister's  house  for  you.  The 
beautiful  Mme.  de  Nucingen  will  give  the  signal  for  a  battle. 
As  soon  as  she  singles  you  out,  other  women  will  begin  to  lose 
their  heads  about  you,  and  her  enemies  and  rivals  and  inti- 
mate friends  will  all  try  to  take  you  from  her.  There  are 
women  who  will  fall  in  love  with  a  man  because  another 
woman  has  chosen  him ;  like  the  city  madames,  poor  things, 
who  copy  our  millinery,  and  hope  thereby  to  acquire  our 
manners.  You  will  have  a  success,  and  in  Paris  success  is 
everything ;  it  is  the  key  of  power.  If  the  women  credit  you 
with  wit  and  talent,  the  men  will  follow  suit  so  long  as  you 
do  not  undeceive  them  yourself.  There  will  be  nothing  you 
may  not  aspire  to ;  you  will  go  everywhere,  and  you  will  find 
out  what  the  world  is — an  assemblage  of  fools  and  knaves. 
But  you  must  be  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  I  am  giving 
you  my  name  like  Ariadne's  clue  of  thread  to  take  with  you 
into  this  labyrinth;  make  no  unworthy  use  of  it,"  she  said, 
with  a  queenly  glance  and  curve  of  her  throat ;  "  give  it  back 
to  me  unsullied.  And  now,  go  ;  leave  me.  We  women  also 
have  our  battles  to  fight." 

"And  if  you  should  ever  need  some  one  who  would  gladly 
set  a  match  to  a  train  for  you " 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

He  tapped  his  heart,  smiled  in  answer  to  his  cousin's  smile, 
and  went. 

It  was  five  o'clock,  and  Eugene  was  hungry ;  he  was  afraid 
lest  he  should  not  be  in  time  for  dinner,  a  misgiving  which 


86  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

made  him  feel  that  it  was  pleasant  to  be  borne  so  quickly 
across  Paris.  Tliis  sensation  of  physical  comfort  left  his 
mind  free  to  grapple  with  the  thoughts  that  assailed  him.  A 
mortification  usually  sends  a  young  man  of  his  age  into  a 
furious  rage ;  he  shakes  his  fists  at  society,  and  vows  ven- 
geance when  his  belief  in  himself  is  shaken.  Just  then  Ras- 
tignac  was  overwhelmed  by  the  words,  "You  have  shut  the 
Countess'  door  against  you." 

"I  shall  call!"    he  said  to  himself,   "and  if  Mme.  de 

Beauseant  is  right,  if  I  never  find  her  at  home — I well, 

Mme.  de  Restaud  shall  meet  me  in  every  salon  in  Paris.  I 
will  learn  to  fence,  and  have  some  pistol  practice,  and  kill 
that  Maxime  of  hers  !  " 

"And  money?"  cried  an  inward  monitor.  "How  about 
money,  where  is  that  to  come  from  ?  ' '  And  all  at  once  the 
wealth  displayed  in  the  Comtesse  de  Restaud's  drawing-room 
rose  before  his  eyes.  That  was  the  luxury  which  Goriot's 
daughter  had  loved  too  well ;  the  gilding,  the  ostentatious 
splendor,  the  unintelligent  luxury  of  the  parvenu,  the  riotous 
extravagance  of  a  courtesan.  Then  the  attractive  vision  sud- 
denly went  under  an  eclipse  as  he  remembered  the  stately 
grandeur  of  the  Hotel  de  Beauseant.  As  his  fancy  wandered 
among  these  lofty  regions  in  the  great  world  of  Paris,  innu- 
merable dark  thoughts  gathered  in  his  heart ;  his  ideas  wid- 
ened, and  his  conscience  grew  more  elastic.  He  saw  the 
world  as  it  is  ;  saw  how  the  rich  lived  beyond  the  jurisdiction 
of  law  and  public  opinion,  and  found  in  success  the  ultima 
ratio  viundi. 

"  Vautrin  is  right,  success  is  virtue!  "  he  said  to  himself. 

Arrived  in  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  he  rushed  up  to 
his  room  for  ten  francs  wherewith  to  satisfy  the  demands  of 
the  cabman,  and  went  in  to  dinner.  He  glanced  round  the 
squalid  room,  saw  the  eighteen  poverty-stricken  creatures 
about  to  feed  like  cattle  in  their  stalls,  and  the  sight  filled 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  87 

him  with  loathing.  The  transition  was  too  sudden,  and  the 
contrast  was  so  violent  that  it  could  not  but  act  as  a  power- 
ful stimulant ;  his  ambition  developed  and  grew  beyond  all 
bounds.  On  the  one  hand,  he  beheld  a  vision  of  social  life 
in  its  most  charming  and  refined  forms,  of  quick-pulsed  youth, 
of  fair,  impassioned  faces  invested  with  all  the  charm  of  poe- 
try, framed  in  a  marvelous  setting  of  luxury  or  art ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  he  saw  a  sombre  picture,  the  miry  verge  be- 
yond these  faces,  in  which  passion  was  extinct  and  nothing 
was  left  of  the  drama  but  the  cords  and  pulleys  and  bare 
mechanism.  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  counsels,  the  words  uttered 
in  anger  by  the  forsaken  lady,  her  petulant  offer,  came  to  his 
mind,  and  poverty  was  a  ready  expositor.  Rastignac  deter- 
mined to  open  two  parallel  trenches,  so  as  to  insure  success  \ 
he  would  be  a  learned  doctor  of  law  and  a  man  of  fashion. 
Clearly  he  was  still  a  child  !  Those  two  lines  are  asymptotes, 
and  will  never  meet. 

"  You  are  very  dull,  my  lord  marquis,"  said  Vautrin,  with 
one  of  the  shrewd  glances  that  seem  to  read  the  innermost 
secrets  of  another  mind. 

"  I  am  not  in  the  humor  to  stand  jokes  from  people  who 
call  me  *my  lord  marquis,'  "  answered  Eugene.  "A  marquis 
here  in  Paris,  if  he  is  not  the  veriest  sham,  ought  to  have  a 
hundred  thousand  livres  a  year  at  least ;  and  a  lodger  in  the 
Maison  Vauquer  is  not  exactly  fortune's  favorite." 

Vautrin's  glance  at  Rastignac  was  half-paternal,  half-con- 
temptuous. "  Puppy  !  "  it  seemed  to  say;  "  I  should  make 
one  mouthful  of  him  !  "     Then  he  answered — 

"Your  are  in  a  bad  humor;  perhaps  your  visit  to  the 
beautiful  Comtesse  de  Restaud  was  not  a  success." 

"  She  has  shut  her  door  against  me  because  I  told  her  that 
her  father  dined  at  our  table,"  cried  Rastignac. 

Glances  were  exchanged  all  round  the  room  ;  Father  Goriot 
looked  down. 

"You  have  sent  some  snuff  into  my  eye,"  he  said  to  his 


88  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

neighbor,  turning  a  little  aside  to  rub  his  hand  over  his 
face. 

"Any  one  who  molests  Father  Goriot  will  have  hencefor- 
ward to  reckon  with  me,"  said  Eugene,  looking  at  the  old 
man's  neighbor  ;  "  he  is  worth  all  the  rest  of  us  put  together 
— I  am  not  speaking  of  the  ladies,"  he  added,  turning  in  the 
direction  of  Mile.  Taillefer. 

Eugene's  remarks  produced  a  sensation,  and  his  tone  silenced 
the  dinner  table.  Vautrin  alone  spoke.  **  If  you  are  going 
to  champion  Father  Goriot,  and  set  up  for  his  responsible 
editor  into  the  bargain,  you  had  need  be  a  crack-shot  and 
know  how  to  handle  the  foils,"  he  said,  banteringly. 

**  So  I  intend,"  said  Eugdne. 

"■  Then  are  you  taking  the  field  to-day  ?  " 

*'  Perhaps,"  Rastignac  answered.  "  But  I  owe  no  account 
of  myself  to  any  one,  especially  as  I  do  not  try  to  find  out 
what  other  people  do  of  a  night." 

Vautrin  looked  askance  at  Rastignac. 

"If  you  do  not  mean  to  be  deceived  by  the  puppets,  my 
boy,  you  must  go  behind  and  see  the  whole  show,  and  not 
peep  through  holes  in  the  curtain.  That  is  enough,"  he 
added,  seeing  that  Eugene  was  about  to  fly  into  a  passion. 
"We  can  have  a  little  talk  whenever  you  like." 

There  was  a  general  feeling  of  gloom  and  constraint. 
Father  Goriot  was  so  deeply  dejected  by  the  student's  remark 
that  he  did  not  notice  the  change  in  the  disposition  of  his 
fellow-lodgers,  nor  know  that  he  had  met  with  a  champion 
capable  of  putting  an  end  to  the  persecution. 

"  Then,  M.  Goriot  sitting  there  is  the  father  of  a  countess," 
said  Mme.  Vauquer  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  of  a  baroness,"  answered  Rastignac. 

"That  is  about  all  he  is  capable  of,"  said  Bianchon  to 
Rastignac  ;  "  I  have  taken  a  look  at  his  head  ;  there  is  only  one 
bump — the  bump  of  paternity  ;  he  must  be  an  eternal  father  ^ 

Eugene  was  too  intent  on  his  thoughts  to  laugh  at  Bianchon's 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  89 

joke.  He  determined  to  profit  by  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  coun- 
sels, and  was  asking  himself  how  he  could  obtain  the  necessary 
money.  He  grew  grave.  The  wide  savannahs  of  the  world 
stretched  before  his  eyes  \  all  things  lay  before  him,  nothing 
was  his.  Dinner  came  to  an  end,  the  others  went,  and  he  was 
left  in  the  dining-room. 

"So  you  have  seen  my  daughter?"  Goriot  spoke  trem- 
ulously, and  the  sound  of  his  voice  broke  in  upon  Eugene's 
dreams.  The  young  man  took  the  elder's  hand,  and  looked 
at  him  with  something  like  kindness  in  his  eyes. 

"You  are  a  good  and  noble  man,"  he  said.  "  We  will 
have  some  talk  about  your  daughters  by  and  by." 

He  rose  without  waiting  for  Goriot's  answer,  and  went  to 
his  room.    There  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to  his  mother : 

"My  dear  Mother: — Can  you  nourish  your  child  from 
your  breast  again  ?  I  am  in  a  position  to  make  a  rapid  for- 
tune, but  I  want  twelve  hundred  francs — I  must  have  them 
at  all  costs.  Say  nothing  about  this  to  my  father ;  perhaps 
he  might  make  objections,  and  unless  I  have  the  money,  I 
may  be  led  to  put  an  end  to  myself,  and  so  escape  the  clutches 
of  despair.  I  will  tell  you  everything  when  I  see  you.  I 
will  not  begin  to  try  to  describe  my  present  situation  ;  it 
would  take  volumes  to  put  the  whole  story  clearly  and  fully. 
I  have  not  been  gambling,  my  kind  mother,  I  owe  no  one  a 
penny ;  but  if  you  would  preserve  the  life  that  you  gave  me, 
you  must  send  me  the  sum  I  mention.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I 
go  to  see  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant ;  she  is  using  her  influ- 
ence for  me ;  I  am  obliged  to  go  into  society,  and  I  have 
not  a  penny  to  lay  out  on  clean  gloves.  I  can  manage  to 
exist  on  bread  and  water,  or  go  without  food,  if  need  be,  but 
I  cannot  do  without  the  tools  with  which  they  cultivate  the 
vineyards  in  this  country.  I  must  resolutely  make  up  my 
mind  at  once  to  make  my  way,  or  stick  in  the  mire  for  the 
rest  of  my  days.     I  know  that  all  your  hopes  are  set  on  me, 


90  FATHER   GORIOT. 

and  I  want  to  realize  them  quickly.  Sell  some  of  your  old 
jewelry,  my  kind  mother ;  I  will  give  you  other  jewels  very 
soon.  I  know  enough  of  our  affairs  at  home  to  know  all  that 
such  a  sacrifice  means,  and  you  must  not  think  that  I  would 
lightly  ask  you  to  make  it ;  I  should  be  a  monster  if  I  could. 
You  must  think  of  my  entreaty  as  a  cry  forced  from  me  by 
imperative  necessity.  Our  whole  future  lies  in  the  subsidy 
with  which  I  must  begin  my  first  campaign,  for  life  in  Paris 
is  one  continual  battle.  If  you  cannot  otherwise  procure  the 
whole  of  the  money,  and  are  forced  to  sell  our  aunt's  lace, 
tell  her  that  I  will  send  her  some  still  handsomer,"  and  so 
forth. 

He  wrote  to  ask  each  of  his  sisters  for  their  savings — would 
they  despoil  themselves  for  him,  and  keep  the  sacrifice  a  secret 
from  the  family  ?  To  his  request  he  knew  that  they  would 
not  fail  to  respond  gladly,  and  he  added  to  it  an  appeal  to 
their  delicacy  by  touching  the  chord  of  honor  that  vibrates  so 
loudly  in  young  and  highly  strung  natures. 

Yet  when  he  had  written  the  letters,  he  could  not  help 
feeling  misgivings  in  spite  of  his  youthful  ambition  ;  his  heart 
beat  fast,  and  he  trembled.  He  knew  the  spotless  nobleness 
of  the  lives  buried  away  in  the  lonely  manor  house ;  he  knew 
what  trouble  and  what  joy  his  request  would  cause  his  sisters, 
and  how  happy  they  would  be  as  they  talked  at  the  bottom  of 
the  orchard  of  that  dear  brother  of  theirs  in  Paris.  Visions 
rose  before  his  eyes  ;  a  sudden  strong  light  revealed  his  sisters 
secretly  counting  over  their  little  store,  devising  some  girlish 
stratagem  by  which  the  money  could  be  sent  to  him  incognito, 
essaying,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  a  piece  of  deceit  that 
reached  the  sublime  in  its  unselfishness. 

"A  sister's  heart  is  a  diamond  for  purity,  a  deep  sea  of 
tenderness  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  He  felt  ashamed  of  those 
letters. 

What  power  there  must  be  in  the  petitions  put  up  by  such 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  91 

hearts ;  how  pure  the  fervor  that  bears  their  souls  to  heaven 
in  prayer  !  What  exquisite  joy  they  would  find  in  self-sacri- 
fice !  VVliat  a  pang  for  his  mother's  heart  if  she  could  not 
send  him  all  that  he  asked  for  !  And  this  noble  affection, 
these  sacrifices  made  at  such  terrible  cost,  were  to  serve  as  the 
ladder  by  which  he  meant  to  climb  to  Delphine  de  Nucingen. 
A  few  tears,  like  the  last  grains  of  incense  flung  upon  the 
sacred  altar  fire  of  the  hearth,  fell  from  his  eyes.  He  walked 
up  and  down,  and  despair  mingled  with  his  emotion.  Father 
Goriot  saw  him  through  the  half-open  door. 

"What  is  the  matter,  sir?"  he  asked  from  the  threshold. 

"  Ah  !  my  good  neighbor,  I  am  as  much  a  son  and  brother 
as  you  are  a  father.  You  do  well  to  fear  for  the  Comtesse 
Anastasie ;  there  is  one  M.  Maxime  de  Trailles,  who  will  be 
her  ruin." 

Father  Goriot  withdrew,  stammering  some  words,  but 
Eugene  failed  to  catch  their  meaning. 

The  next  morning  Rastignac  went  out  to  post  his  letters. 
Up  to  the  last  moment  he  wavered  and  doubted,  but  he  ended 
by  flinging  them  into  the  box.  "  I  shall  succeed  !  "  he  said 
to  himself.  So  says  the  gambler ;  so  says  the  great  captain  ; 
but  the  three  words  that  have  been  the  salvation  of  some  few 
have  been  the  ruin  of  many  more. 

A  few  days  after  this  Eugene  called  at  Mme.  de  Restaud's 
house  ;  she  was  not  at  home.  Three  times  he  tried  the  exper- 
iment, and  three  times  he  found  her  doors  closed  against  him, 
though  he  was  careful  to  choose  an  hour  when  M.  de  Trailles 
was  not  there.     The  Vicomtesse  was  right. 

The  student  studied  no  longer.  He  put  in  an  appearance 
at  lectures  simply  to  answer  to  his  name,  and,  after  thus  attest- 
ing his  presence,  departed  forthwith.  He  had  been  through 
a  reasoning  process  familiar  to  most  students.  He  had  seen 
the  advisability  of  deferring  his  studies  to  the  last  moment 
before  going  up  for  his  examinations ;  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  cram  his  second  and  third  year's  work  into  the  third  year, 


92  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

when  he  meant  to  begin  to  work  in  earnest  and  to  complete 
his  studies  in  law  with  one  great  effort.  In  the  meantime  he 
had  fifteen  months  in  which  to  navigate  the  ocean  of  Paris,  to 
spread  the  nets  and  set  the  lines  that  should  bring  him  a 
protectress  and  a  fortune.  Twice  during  that  week  he  saw 
Mme.  de  Beauseant  ;  he  did  not  go  to  her  house  until  he  had 
seen  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda  drive  away. 

Victory  for  yet  a  few  more  days  was  with  the  great  lady,  the 
most  poetic  figure  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  ;  and  the 
marriage  of  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda-Pinto  with  Mile,  de  Roche- 
fide  was  postponed.  The  dread  of  losing  her  happiness  filled 
those  days  with  a  fever  of  joy  unknown  before,  but  the  end 
was  only  so  much  the  nearer.  The  Marquis  d'Ajuda  and  the 
Rochefides  agreed  that  this  quarrel  and  reconciliation  was  a 
very  fortunate  thing ;  Mme.  de  Beauseant  (so  they  hoped) 
would  gradully  become  reconciled  to  the  idea  of  the  marriage, 
and  in  the  end  would  be  brought  to  sacrifice  d'Ajuda's  morn- 
ing visits  to  the  exigencies  of  a  man's  career,  exigencies 
which  she  must  have  foreseen.  In  spite  of  the  most  solemn 
promises,  daily  renewed,  M.  d'Ajuda  was  playing  a  part,  and 
the  Vicomtesse  was  eager  to  be  deceived.  "  Instead  of  taking 
the  leap  heroically  from  the  window,  she  is  falling  headlong 
down  the  staircase,"  said  her  most  intimate  friend,  the 
Duchesse  de  Langeais.  Yet  this  after-glow  of  happiness  lasted 
long  enough  for  the  Vicomtesse  to  be  of  service  to  her  young 
cousin.  She  had  a  half-superstitious  affection  for  him.  Eugene 
had  shown  her  sympathy  and  devotion  at  a  crisis  when  a 
woman  sees  no  pity,  no  real  comfort  in  any  eyes;  when  if  a 
man  is  ready  with  soothing  flatteries,  it  is  because  he  has  an 
interested  motive. 

Rastignac  made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  learn  the  whole  of 
Goriot's  previous  history;  he  would  come  to  his  bearings 
before  attempting  to  board  the  Maison  de  Nucingen.  The 
results  of  his  inquiries  may  be  given  briefly  as  follows : 

In  the  days  before  the  Revolution,  Jean-Joachim  Goriot 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  93 

was  simply  a  workman  in  the  employ  of  a  vermicelli-maker. 
He  was  a  skillful,  thrifty  workman,  sufficiently  enterprising  to 
buy  his  master's  business  when  the  latter  fell  a  chance  victim 
to  the  disturbances  of  1789.  Goriot  established  himself  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Jussienne,  close  to  the  Corn  Exchange.  His 
plain  good  sense  led  him  to  accept  the  position  of  president 
of  the  section,  so  as  to  secure  for  his  business  the  protection 
of  those  in  power  at  that  dangerous  epoch.  This  prudent  step 
had  led  to  success ;  the  foundations  of  his  fortune  were  laid 
in  the  time  of  the  scarcity  (real  or  artificial),  when  the  price 
of  grain  of  all  kinds  rose  enormously  in  Paris.  People  used 
to  fight  for  bread  at  the  bakers'  doors ;  while  other  persons 
went  to  the  grocers'  shops  and  bought  Italian  paste  foods 
without  brawling  over  it.  It  was  during  this  year  that  Goriot 
made  the  money,  which,  at  a  later  time,  was  to  give  him  all 
the  advantage  of  the  great  capitalist  over  the  small  buyer ;  he 
had,  moreover,  the  usual  luck  of  average  ability  ;  his  medi- 
ocrity was  the  salvation  of  him.  He  excited  no  one's  envy  ; 
it  was  not  even  suspected  that  he  was  rich  till  the  peril  of 
being  rich  was  over,  and  all  his  intelligence  was  concentrated, 
not  on  political,  but  on  commercial  speculations.  Goriot  was 
an  authority  second  to  none  on  all  questions  relating  to  corn, 
flour,  and  "  middlings  ;  "  and  the  production,  storage,  and 
quality  of  grain.  He  could  estimate  the  yield  of  the  harvest, 
and  foresee  market  prices  ;  he  bought  his  cereals  in  Sicily, 
and  imported  Russian  wheat.  Any  one  who  had  heard  him 
hold  forth  on  tlie  regulations  that  control  the  importation  and 
exportation  of  grain,  who  had  seen  his  grasp  of  the  subject, 
his  clear  insight  into  the  principles  involved,  his  appreciation 
of  weak  [)oints  in  the  way  that  the  system  worked,  would  have 
thought  that  here  was  the  stuff  of  which  a  minister  is  made. 
Patient,  active,  and  persevering,  energetic  and  prompt  in 
action,  he  surveyed  his  business  horizon  with  an  eagle's  eye. 
Nothing  there  took  him  by  surprise  ;  he  foresaw  all  things, 
knew  all  that  was  happening,  and  kept  his  own  counsel ;  he 


94  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

was  a  diplomatist  in  his  quick  comprehension  of  a  situation  ; 
and  in  the  routine  of  business  he  was  as  patient  and  plodding 
as  a  soldier  on  the  march.  But  beyond  this  business  horizon 
he  could  not  see.  He  used  to  spend  his  hours  of  leisure  on 
the  threshold  of  his  shop,  leaning  against  the  framework  of 
the  door.  Take  him  from  his  dark  little  counting-house,  and 
he  became  once  more  the  rough,  slow-witted  workman,  a  man 
who  cannot  understand  a  piece  of  reasoning,  who  is  indifferent 
to  all  intellectual  pleasures,  and  falls  asleep  at  the  play, 
a  Parisian  Dolibom  in  short,  against  whose  stupidity  other 
minds  are  powerless. 

Natures  of  this  kind  are  nearly  all  alike  ;  in  almost  all  of 
them  you  will  find  some  hidden  depth  of  sublime  affection. 
Two  all-absorbing  affections  filled  the  vermicelli-maker's 
heart  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  feeling ;  into  tliem  he 
seemed  to  put  all  the  forces  of  his  nature,  as  he  put  the  whole 
power  of  his  brain  into  the  corn  trade.  He  had  regarded  his 
wife,  the  only  daughter  of  a  rich  farmer  of  La  Brie,  with  a 
devout  admiration ;  his  love  for  her  had  been  boundless. 
Goriot  had  felt  the  charm  of  a  lovely  and  sensitive  nature, 
which,  in  its  delicate  strength,  was  the  very  opposite  of  his 
own.  Is  there  any  instinct  more  deeply  implanted  in  the 
heart  of  man  than  the  pride  of  protection,  a  protection  which 
is  constantly  exerted  for  a  fragile  and  defenseless  creature? 
Join  love  thereto,  the  warmth  of  gratitude  that  all  generous 
souls  feel  for  the  source  of  their  pleasures,  and  you  have  the 
explanation  of  many  strange  incongruities  in  human  nature. 

After  seven  years  of  unclouded  happiness,  Goriot  lost  his 
wife.  It  was  very  unfortunate  for  him.  She  was  beginning 
to  gain  an  ascendancy  over  him  in  other  ways ;  possibly  she 
might  have  brought  that  barren  soil  under  cultivation,  she 
might  have  widened  his  ideas  and  given  other  directions  to 
his  thoughts.  But  when  she  was  dead,  the  instinct  of  father- 
hood developed  in  him  till  it  almost  became  a  mania.  All 
the  affection  balked  by  death  seemed  to  turn  to  his  daughters. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  95 

and  he  found  full  satisfaction  for  his  heart  in  loving  them. 
More  or  less  brilliant  proposals  were  made  to  him  from  time 
to  time ;  wealthy  merchants  or  farmers  with  daughters  vied 
with  each  other  in  offering  inducements  to  him  to  marry- 
again  ;  but  he  determined  to  remain  a  widower.  His  father- 
in-law,  the  only  man  for  whom  he  felt  a  decided  friendship, 
gave  out  that  Goriot  had  made  a  vow  to  be  faithful  to  his 
wife's  memory.  Tiie  frequenters  of  the  Corn  Exchange,  who 
could  not  comprehend  this  sublime  piece  of  folly,  joked  about 
it  among  themselves,  and  found  a  ridiculous  nickname  for 
him.  One  of  them  ventured  (after  a  glass  over  a  bargain)  to 
call  him  by  it,  and  a  blow  from  the  vermicelli-maker's  fist 
sent  him  headlong  into  a  gutter  in  the  Rue  Oblin.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  else  when  his  children  were  concerned  ;  his 
love  for  them  made  him  fidgety  and  anxious ;  and  this  was 
so  well  known,  that  one  day  a  competitor,  who  wished  to  get 
rid  of  him  to  secure  the  field  to  himself,  told  Goriot  that  Del- 
phine  had  just  been  knocked  down  by  a  cab.  The  vermicelli- 
maker  turned  ghastly  pale,  left  the  Exchange  at  once,  and  did 
not  return  for  several  days  afterwards ;  he  was  ill  in  conse- 
quence of  the  shock  and  the  subsequent  relief  on  discovering 
that  it  was  a  false  alarm.  This  time,  however,  the  offender 
did  not  escape  with  a  bruised  shoulder ;  at  a  critical  moment 
in  the  man's  affairs,  Goriot  drove  him  into  bankruptcy,  and 
forced  him  to  disappear  from  the  Corn  Exchange. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  two  girls  were  spoiled. 
With  an  income  of  sixty  thousand  francs,  Goriot  scarcely 
spent  twelve  hundred  on  himself,  and  found  all  his  happiness 
in  satisfying  the  whims  of  the  two  girls.  The  best  masters 
were  engaged,  that  Anastasie  and  Delphine  might  be  endowed 
with  all  the  accomplishments  which  distinguish  a  good  educa- 
tion. They  had  a  chaperon — luckily  for  them,  she  was  a 
woman  who  had  sense  and  good  taste ;  they  learned  to  ride; 
they  had  a  carriage  for  their  use ;  they  lived  as  the  mistress 
of  a  rich  old  lord  might  live  ;  they  had  only  to  express  a  wish, 


96  FATHER   G OKI 01. 

their  father  would  hasten  to  give  them  their  most  extravagant 
desires,  and  asked  nothing  of  them  in  return  but  a  kiss.  Go- 
riot  had  raised  the  two  girls  to  the  level  of  the  angels ;  and, 
quite  naturally,  he  himself  was  left  beneath  them.  Poor 
man !  he  loved  them  even  for  the  pain  that  they  gave 
him. 

When  the  girls  were  old  enough  to  be  married,  they  were 
left  free  to  choose  for  themselves.  Each  had  half  her  father's 
fortune  as  her  dowry  ;  and  when  the  Comte  de  Restaud  came 
to  woo  Anastasie  for  her  beauty,  her  social  aspirations  led  her 
to  leave  her  father's  house  for  a  more  exalted  sphere.  Del- 
phine  wished  for  money ;  she  married  Nucingen,  a  banker  of 
German  extraction,  who  became  a  baron  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire.  Goriot  remained  a  vermicelli-maker  as  before.  His 
daughters  and  his  sons-in-law  began  to  demur ;  they  did  not 
like  to  see  him  still  engaged  in  trade,  though  his  whole  life 
was  bound  up  with  his  business.  For  five  years  he  stood  out 
against  their  entreaties,  then  he  yielded,  and  consented  to 
retire  on  the  amount  realized  by  the  sale  of  his  business  and 
the  savings  of  the  last  few  years.  It  was  this  capital  that 
Mme.  Vauquer,  in  the  early  days  of  his  residence  with  her, 
had  calculated  would  bring  in  eight  or  ten  thousand  livres  in 
a  year.  He  had  taken  refuge  in  her  lodging-house,  driven 
there  by  despair  when  he  knew  that  his  daughters  were  com- 
pelled by  their  husbands  not  only  to  refuse  to  receive  him  as 
an  inmate  in  their  houses,  but  even  to  see  him  no  more  except 
in  private. 

This  was  all  the  information  which  Rastignac  gained  from 
a  M.  Muret  who  had  purchased  Goriot's  business,  information 
which  confirmed  the  Duchesse  de  Langeais'  suppositions,  and 
herewith  the  preliminary  explanation  of  this  obscure  but  terri- 
ble Parisian  tragedy  comes  to  an  end. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  first  week  in  December  Rastignac 
received  two  letters — one  from  his  mother  and  one  from  his 
eldest  sister.     His  heart  beat  fast,  half  with  happiness,  half 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  97 

with  fear,  at  the  sight  of  the  familiar  handwriting.  Those  two 
little  scraps  of  paper  contained  life  or  death  for  his  hopes, 
But  while  he  felt  a  shiver  of  dread  as  he  remembered  their 
dire  poverty  at  home,  he  knew  their  love  for  him  so  well  that 
he  could  not  help  fearing  that  he  was  draining  their  very  life- 
blood.     His  mother's  letter  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Mv  DEAR  Child  : — I  am  sending  you  the  money  that  you 
asked  for.  Make  a  good  use  of  it.  Even  to  save  your  life  I 
could  not  raise  so  large  a  sum  a  second  time  without  your 
father's  knowledge,  and  there  would  be  trouble  about  it. 
We  should  be  obliged  to  mortgage  the  land.  It  is  impossible 
to  judge  of  the  merits  of  schemes  of  which  I  am  ignorant ;  but 
what  sort  of  schemes  can  they  be  that  you  should  fear  to  tell 
me  about  them  !  Volumes  of  explanation  would  not  have 
been  needed ;  we  mothers  can  understand  at  a  word,  and  that 
word  would  have  spared  me  the  anguish  of  uncertainty.  I  do 
not  know  how  to  hide  the  painful  impression  that  your  letter 
has  made  upon  me,  my  dear  son.  What  can  you  have  felt 
when  you  were  moved  to  send  this  chill  of  dread  through  my 
heart  ?  It  must  have  been  very  painful  to  you  to  write  the 
letter  that  gave  me  so  much  pain  as  I  read  it.  To  what  courses 
are  you  committed  ?  You  are  going  to  appear  to  be  some- 
thing that  you  are  not,  and  your  whole  life  and  success  de- 
pends upon  this  ?  You  are  about  to  see  a  society  into  which 
you  cannot  enter  without  rushing  into  expense  that  you  can- 
not afford,  without  losing  precious  time  that  is  needed  for 
your  studies  ?  Ah  !  my  dear  Eugene,  believe  your  mother, 
crooked  ways  cannot  lead  to  great  ends.  Patience  and  endur- 
ance are  the  two  qualities  most  needed  in  your  position.  I 
am  not  scolding  you ;  I  do  not  want  any  tinge  of  bitterness  to 
spoil  our  offering.  I  am  only  talking  like  a  mother  whose 
trust  in  you  is  as  great  as  her  foresight  for  you.  You  know 
the  steps  that  you  must  take,  and  I,  for  my  part,  know  your 
purity  of  heart,  and  how  good  your  intentions  are  ;  so  I  can 
7 


98  FATHER   GORIOT. 

say  to  you  without  a  doubt,  '  Go  forward,  beloved  !  '  If  I 
tremble,  it  is  because  I  am  a  mother,  but  my  prayers  and 
blessings  will  be  with  you  at  every  step.  Be  very  careful, 
dear  boy.  You  must  have  a  man's  prudence,  for  it  lies  with 
you  to  shape  the  destinies  of  five  others  who  are  dear  to  you, 
and  must  look  to  you.  Yes,  our  fortunes  depend  upon  you, 
and  your  success  is  ours.  We  all  pray  to  God  to  be  with 
you  in  all  that  you  do.  Your  aunt  Marcillac  has  been  most 
generous  beyond  words  in  this  matter  ;  she  saw  at  once  how 
it  was,  even  down  to  your  gloves.  '  But  I  have  a  weakness 
for  the  eldest  !  '  she  said  gaily.  You  must  love  your  aunt 
very  much,  dear  Eugene.  I  shall  wait  till  you  have  succeeded 
before  telling  you  all  that  she  has  done  for  you,  or  her  money 
w  iuld  burn  your  fingers.  You,  who  are  young,  do  not  know 
what  it  is  to  part  with  something  that  is  a  piece  of  your  past ! 
But  what  would  we  not  sacrifice  for  your  sake  ?  Your  aunt 
says  that  I  am  to  send  you  a  kiss  on  the  forehead  from  her,  and 
that  kiss  is  to  bring  you  luck  again  and  again,  she  says.  She 
would  have  written  to  you  herself,  the  dear  kind-hearted 
woman,  but  she  is  troubled  with  the  gout  in  her  fingers  just 
now.  Your  father  is  very  well.  The  vintage  of  1819  has 
turned  out  better  than  we  expected.  Good-bye,  dear  boy ;  I 
will  say  nothing  about  your  sisters,  because  Laure  is  writing 
to  you,  and  I  must  let  her  have  the  pleasure  of  giving  you  all 
the  home  news.  Heaven  send  that  you  may  succeed  !  Oh  ! 
yes,  dear  Eugene,  you  must  succeed.  I  have  come,  through 
you,  to  a  knowledge  of  a  pain  so  sharp  that  I  do  not  think  I 
could  endure  it  a  second  time.  I  have  come  to  know  what  it 
is  to  be  poor,  and  to  long  for  money  for  my  children's 
sake.  There,  good-bye  !  Do  not  leave  us  for  long  without 
news  of  you ;  and  here,  at  the  last,  take  a  kiss  from  your 
mother." 

By  the  time  Eugene  had  finished  the  letter  he  was  in  tears. 
He    thought   of  Father   Goriot   crushing  his  silver  keepsake 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  90 

into  a  shapeless  mass  before  he  sold  it  to  meet  his  daughter's 
bill  of  exchange. 

"  Your  mother  has  broken  up  her  jewels  for  you,"  he  said 
to  himself;  "  your  aunt  shed  tears  over  those  relics  of  hers  be- 
fore she  sold  them  for  your  sake.  What  right  have  you  to 
heap  execrations  on  Anastasie  ?  You  have  followed  her 
example;  you  have  selfishly  sacrificed  others  to  your  own 
future,  and  she  sacrifices  her  father  to  her  lover ;  and  of  you 
two,  which  is  the  worse  ?  ' ' 

He  was  ready  to  renounce  his  attempts ;  he  could  not  bear 
to  take  that  money.  The  fires  of  remorse  burned  in  his 
heart,  and  gave  him  intolerable  pain,  the  generous  secret  re- 
morse which  men  seldom  take  into  account  when  they  sit  in 
judgment  upon  their  fellow-men  ;  but  perhaps  the  angels  in 
heaven,  beholding  it,  pardon  the  criminal  whom  our  justice 
condemns.  Rastignac  opened  his  sister's  letter  ;  its  simplic- 
ity and  kindness  revived  his  heart. 

"Your  letter  came  just  at  the  right  time,  dear  brother. 
Agathe  and  I  had  thought  of  so  many  different  ways  of  spend- 
ing our  money,  that  we  did  not  know  what  to  buy  with  it ; 
and  now  you  have  come  in,  and,  like  the  servant  who  upset 
all  the  watches  that  belonged  to  the  King  of  Spain,  you  have 
restored  harmony;  for,  really  and  truly,  we  did  not  know 
which  of  all  the  things  we  wanted  we  needed  most,  and  we 
were  always  quarreling  about  it,  never  thinking,  dear  Eugdne, 
of  a  way  of  spending  our  money  which  would  satisfy  us  com- 
pletely. Agathe  jumped  for  joy.  Indeed,  we  have  been  like 
two  mad  things  all  day,  '  to  such  a  prodigious  degree '  (as 
aunt  would  say),  that  mother  said,  with  her  severe  expression, 
'  Whatever  can  be  the  matter  with  you,  mesdemoiselles  ?  '  I 
think  if  we  had  been  scolded  a  little,  we  should  have  been 
still  better  pleased.  A  woman  ought  to  be  very  glad  to  suffer 
for  one  she  loves  !  I,  however,  in  my  inmost  soul,  was  dole- 
ful and  cross  in  the  midst  of  all  my  joy.     I  shall  make  a  bad 


100  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

wife,  I  am  afraid,  I  am  too  fond  of  spending.  I  had  bought 
two  sashes  and  a  nice  little  stiletto  for  piercing  eyelet-holes  in 
my  stays,  trifles  that  I  really  did  not  want,  so  that  I  have  less 
than  that  slow-coach  Agathe,  who  is  so  economical,  and 
hoards  her  money  like  a  magpie.  She  had  two  hundred 
francs  !  And  I  have  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  !  I  am 
nicely  punished  ;  I  could  throw  my  sash  down  the  well ;  it 
will  be  painful  to  me  to  wear  it  now.  Poor  dear,  I  have 
robbed  you.  And  Agathe  was  so  nice  about  it.  She  said, 
'  Let  us  send  the  three  hundred  and  fifty  francs  in  our  two 
names  !  '  But  I  could  not  help  telling  you  everything  just  as 
it  happened, 

**  Do  you  know  how  we  managed  to  keep  your  command- 
ments? We  took  our  glittering  hoard,  we  went  out  for  a 
walk,  and  when  once  fairly  on  the  highway  we  ran  all  the  way 
to  Ruffec,  where  we  handed  over  the  coin,  without  more  ado, 
to  M.  Grimbert  of  the  Messageries  Royales,  We  came  back 
again  like  swallows  on  the  wing.  '  Don't  you  think  that 
happiness  has  made  us  lighter?'  Agathe  said.  We  said  all 
sorts  of  things,  which  I  shall  not  tell  you,  Monsieur  le 
Parisien,  because  they  were  all  about  you.  Oh,  we  love  you 
dearly,  dear  brother ;  it  was  all  summed  up  in  those  few 
words.  As  for  keeping  the  secret,  little  masqueraders  like  us 
are  capable  of  anything  (according  to  our  aunt),  even  of 
holding  our  tongues.  Our  mother  has  been  on  a  mysterious 
journey  to  AngoulSme,  and  the  aunt  went  with  her,  not  with- 
out solemn  councils,  from  which  we  were  shut  out,  and  M.  le 
Baron  likewise.  They  are  silent  as  to  the  weighty  political 
considerations  that  prompted  their  mission,  and  conjectures 
are  rife  in  the  State  of  Rastignac.  The  Infants  are  embroider- 
ing a  muslin  robe  with  open-work  sprigs  for  her  majesty  the 
Queen  ;  the  work  progresses  in  the  most  profound  secrecy. 
There  are  but  two  more  breadths  to  finish.  A  decree  has  gone 
forth  that  no  wall  shall  be  built  on  the  side  of  Verteuil,  but 
that  a  hedge  shall  be  planted  instead  thereof.     Our  subjects 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  101 

may  sustain  some  disappointment  of  fruit  and  espaliers,  but 
strangers  will  enjoy  a  fair  prospect.  Should  the  heir-presump- 
tive lack  pocket-handkerchiefs,  be  it  known  unto  him  that  the 
dowager  lady  of  Marcillac,  exploring  the  recesses  of  her 
drawers  and  boxes  (known  respectively  as  Pompeii  and  Her- 
culaneum),  having  brought  to  light  a  fair  piece  of  cambric 
whereof  she  wotted  not,  the  Princesses  Agathe  and  Laure 
place  at  their  brother's  disposal  their  thread,  their  needles,  and 
hands  somewhat  of  the  reddest.  The  two  young  Princes, 
Don  Henri  and  Don  Gabriel,  retain  their  fatal  habits  of  stuff- 
ing themselves  with  grape-jelly,  of  teasing  their  sisters,  of 
taking  their  pleasure  by  going  a-birdnesting,  and  of  cutting 
switches  for  themselves  from  the  osier-beds,  maugre  the  laws 
of  the  realm.  Moreover,  they  list  not  to  learn  aught,  where- 
fore the  Papal  Nuncio  (called  of  the  commonalty,  M.  le 
Cure)  threateneth  them  with  excommunication,  since  that 
they  neglect  the  sacred  canons  of  grammatical  construction 
for  the  construction  of  other  canons,  deadly  engines  made  of 
the  stems  of  elder. 

"Farewell,  dear  brother,  never  did  letter  carry  so  many 
wishes  for  your  success,  so  much  love  fully  satisfied.  You 
will  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  us  when  you  come  home  !  You 
will  tell  me  everything,  won't  you?  I  am  the  oldest.  From 
something  the  aunt  let  fall,  we  think  you  must  have  had  some 
success. 

"  ^Something  was  said  of  a  lady,  but  nothing  more  was  said ' 

"  Of  course  not,  in  our  family  !  Oh,  by-the-by,  Eugene, 
would  you  rather  we  made  that  piece  of  cambric  into  shirts 
for  you  instead  of  pocket-handkerchiefs?  If  you  want  some 
really  nice  shirts  at  once,  we  ought  to  lose  no  time  in  begin- 
ning upon  them ;  and  if  the  fashion  is  different  now  in  Paris, 
send  us  one  for  a  pattern ;  we  want  more  particularly  to  know 
about  the  cuffs.     Good-bye  !  good-bye  1     Take  my  kiss  on  the 


102  FATHER   GORIOT. 

left  side  of  your  forehead,  on  the  temple  that  belongs  to  me,  and 
to  no  one  else  in  the  world.  I  am  leaving  the  other  side  of  the 
sheet  for  Agathe,  who  has  solemnly  pro.iiised  not  to  read  a 
word  that  I  have  written ;  but,  all  the  same,  I  mean  to  sit  by 
her  while  she  writes,  so  as  to  be  quite  sure  that  she  keeps  her 
word.     Your  loving  sister, 

"Laure  de  Rastignac." 

"Yes!"  said  Eugene  to  himself.  "Yes!  Success  at  all 
costs  now  !  Riches  could  not  repay  such  devotion  as  this. 
I  wish  I  could  give  them  every  sort  of  happiness !  Fifteen 
hundred  and  fifty  francs,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause.  "  Every 
shot  must  go  to  the  mark  !  Laure  is  right.  Trust  a  woman  ! 
I  have  only  calico  shirts.  Where  some  one  else's  welfare  is 
concerned,  a  young  girl  becomes  as  ingenious  as  a  thief. 
Guileless  where  she  herself  is  in  question,  and  full  of  fore- 
sight for  me — she  is  like  a  heavenly  angel  forgiving  the  strange 
incomprehensible  sins  of  earth." 

The  world  lay  before  him.  His  tailor  had  been  summoned 
and  sounded,  and  had  finally  surrendered.  When  Rastignac 
met  M.  de  Trailles,  he  had  seen  at  once  how  great  a  part  the 
tailor  plays  in  a  young  man's  career ;  a  tailor  is  either  a  deadly 
enemy  or  a  staunch  friend,  with  an  invoice  for  a  bond  of 
friendship ;  between  these  two  extremes  there  is,  alack !  no 
middle  term.  In  this  representative  of  his  craft  Eugene  dis- 
covered a  man  who  understood  that  his  was  a  sort  of  paternal 
function  for  young  men  at  their  entrance  into  life,  who  re- 
garded himself  as  a  stepping-stone  between  a  young  man's 
present  and  future.  And  Rastignac  in  gratitude  made  the 
man's  fortune  by  an  epigram  of  a  kind  in  which  he  excelled 
at  a  later  period  of  his  life. 

"I  have  twice  known  a  pair  of  trousers  turned  out  by  him 
make  a  match  of  twenty  thousand  livres  a  year !  " 

Fifteen  hundred  francs,  and  as  many  suits  of  clothes  as  he 
chose  to  order !     At  that  moment  the  poor  child  of  the  south 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  103 

felt  no  more  doubts  of  any  kind.  The  young  man  went  down 
to  breakfast  with  the  indefinable  air  which  the  consciousness 
of  the  possession  of  money  gives  to  youth.  No  sooner  are 
the  coins  slipped  into  a  student's  pocket  than  his  wealth,  in 
imagination  at  least,  is  piled  into  a  fantastic  column,  which 
affords  him  a  moral  support.  He  begins  to  hold  up  his  head 
as  he  walks ;  he  is  conscious  that  he  has  a  means  of  bringing 
his  power  to  bear  on  a  given  point ;  he  looks  you  straight  in 
the  face  ;  his  gestures  are  quick  and  decided  ;  only  yesterday 
he  was  diffident  and  shy,  any  one  might  have  pushed  him 
aside;  to-morrow  he  will  take  the  walk  of  a  prime  minister. 
A  miracle  has  been  wrought  in  him.  Nothing  is  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  ambition,  and  his  ambition  soars  at  random  ;  he 
is  light-hearted,  generous,  and  enthusiastic ;  in  short,  the 
fledgling  bird  has  discovered  that  he  has  wings.  A  poor 
student  snatches  at  every  chance  pleasure  much  as  a  dog  runs 
all  sorts  of  risks  to  steal  a  bone,  cracking  it  and  sucking  the 
marrow  as  he  flies  from  pursuit ;  but  a  young  man  who  can 
rattle  a  few  runaway  gold  coins  in  his  pocket  can  take  his 
pleasure  deliberately,  can  taste  the  whole  of  the  sweets  of 
secure  possession  ;  he  soars  far  above  earth  ;  he  has  forgotten 
what  the  word  poverty  means  ;  all  Paris  is  his.  Those  are 
days  when  the  whole  world'  shines  radiant  with  light,  when 
everything  glows  and  sparkles  before  the  eyes  of  youth,  days 
that  bring  joyous  energy  that  is  never  brought  into  harness, 
days  of  debts  and  of  painful  fears  that  go  hand-in-hand  with 
every  delight.  Those  who  do  not  know  the  left  bank  of  the 
Seine  between  the  Rue  Saint- Jacques  and  the  Rue  des  Saints- 
Peres  know  nothing  of  life. 

"Ah!  if  the  women  of  Paris  but  knew,"  said  Rastignac, 
as  he  devoured  Mme.  Vauquer's  stewed  pears  (at  five  for  a 
penny),  "  they  would  come  here  in  search  of  a  lover." 

Just  then  a  porter  from  the  Messageries  Royales  appeared 
at  the  door  of  the  room ;  they  had  previously  heard  the  bell 
ring  as  the  wicket  opened  to  admit  him.     The  man  asked  for 


104  FATHER    GORIOT. 

M.  Eugene  de  Rastignac,  holding  out  two  bags  for  him  to 
take,  and  a  form  of  receipt  for  his  signature.  Vautrin's  keen 
glance  cut  Eugene  like  a  lash. 

"  Now  you  will  be  able  to  pay  for  those  fencing  lessons  and 
go  to  the  shooting  gallery,"  he  said. 

"  Your  ship  has  come  in,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer,  eyeing 
the  bags. 

Mile.  Michonneau  did  not  dare  to  look  at  the  money,  for 
fear  her  eyes  should  betray  her  cupidity. 

"You  have  a  kind  mother,"  said  Mme.  Couture. 

"  You  have  a  kind  mother,  sir,"  echoed  Poiret. 

"Yes,  mamma  has  been  drained  dry,"  said  Vautrin,  "and 
now  you  can  have  your  fling,  go  into  society,  and  fish  for 
heiresses,  and  dance  with  countesses  who  have  peach  blossom 
in  their  hair.  But  take  my  advice,  young  man,  and  don't 
neglect  your  pistol  practice." 

Vautrin  struck  an  attitude,  as  if  he  were  facing  an  antag- 
onist. Rastignac,  meaning  to  give  the  porter  a  tip,  felt  in 
his  pockets  and  found  nothing.  Vautrin  flung  down  a  franc- 
piece  on  the  table. 

"  Your  credit  is  good,"  he  remarked,  eyeing  the  student, 
and  Rastignac  was  forced  to  thank  him,  though,  since  the 
sharp  encounter  of  wits  at  dinner  that  day,  after  Eugdne  came 
in  from  calling  on  Mme.  de  Beauseant.  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  Vautrin  was  insufferable.  For  a  week,  in  fact,  they 
had  both  kept  silence  in  each  other's  presence,  and  watched 
each  other.  The  student  tried  in  vain  to  account  to  himself 
for  this  attitude. 

An  idea,  of  course,  gains  in  force  by  the  energy  with  which 
it  is  expressed  ;  it  strikes  where  the  brain  sends  it,  by  a  law 
as  mathematically  exact  as  the  law  that  determines  the  course 
of  a  shell  from  a  mortar.  The  amount  of  impression  it 
makes  is  not  to  be  determined  so  exactly.  Sometimes,  in  an 
impressible  nature,  the  idea  works  havoc,  but  there  are,  no 
less,  natures  so  robustly  protected,  that  this  sort  of  projectile 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  105 

falls  flat  and  harmless  on  skulls  of  triple  brass,  as  cannon-shot 
against  solid  masonry ;  then  there  are  flaccid  and  spongy- 
fibred  natures  into  which  ideas  from  without  sink  like  spent 
bullets  into  the  earthworks  of  a  redoubt.  Rastignac's  head 
was  something  of  the  powder-magazine  order  ;  the  least  shock 
sufficed  to  bring  about  an  explosion.  He  was  too  quick,  too 
young,  not  to  be  readily  accessible  to  ideas;  and  open  to  that 
subtle  influence  of  thought  and  feeling  in  others  which  causes 
so  many  strange  phenomena  that  make  an  impression  upon 
us  of  which  we  are  all  unconscious  at  the  time.  Nothing 
escaped  his  mental  vision ;  he  was  lynx-eyed ;  in  him  the 
mental  powers  of  perception,  which  seem  like  duplicates  of 
the  senses,  had  the  mysterious  power  of  swift  projection  that 
astonishes  us  in  intellects  of  a  high  order — slingers  who  are 
quick  to  detect  the  weak  spot  in  any  armor. 

In  the  past  month  Eugene's  good  qualities  and  defects  had 
rapidly  developed  with  his  character.  Intercourse  with  the 
world  and  the  endeavor  to  satisfy  his  growing  desires  had 
brought  out  his  defects.  But  Rastignac  came  from  the  south 
side  of  the  Loire,  and  had  the  good  qualities  of  his  country- 
men. He  had  the  impetuous  courage  of  the  south,  that 
rushes  to  the  attack  of  a  difficulty,  as  well  as  the  southern 
impatience  of  delay  or  suspense.  These  traits  are  held  to  be 
defects  in  the  north  ;  they  made  the  fortune  of  Murat,  but 
they  likewise  cut  short  his  career.  The  moral  would  appear 
to  be  that  when  the  dash  and  boldness  of  the  south  side  of  the 
Loire  meets,  in  a  southern  temperament,  with  the  guile  of 
the  north,  the  character  is  complete,  and  such  a  man  will 
gain  (and  keep)  the  crown  of  Sweden. 

Rastignac,  therefore,  could  not  stand  the  fire  from  Vautrin's 
batteries  for  long  without  discovering  whether  this  was  a 
friend  or  a  foe.  He  felt  as  if  this  strange  being  was  reading 
his  inmost  soul  and  dissecting  his  feelings,  while  Vautrin 
himself  was  so  close  and  secretive  that  be  seemed  to  have 
something  of  the  profound  and  unmoved  serenity  of  a  sphinx, 


106  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

seeing  and  hearing  all  things  and  saying  nothing.     Eugene, 
conscious  of  that  money  in  his  pocket,  grew  rebellious. 

**  Be  so  good  as  to  wait  a  moment,"  he  said  to  Vautrin,  as 
the  latter  rose,  after  slowly  emptying  his  coffee-cup,  sip 
by  sip. 

"What  for?"  inquired  the  older  man,  as  he  put  on  his 
large-brimmed  hat  and  took  up  the  sword-cane  that  he  was 
wont  to  twirl  like  a  man  who  will  face  three  or  four  footpads 
without  flinching. 

"I  will  repay  you  in  a  minute,"  returned  Eugene.  He 
unsealed  one  of  the  bags  as  he  spoke,  counted  out  a  hundred 
and  forty  francs,  and  pushed  them  towards  Mme.  Vauquer. 
"  Short  reckonings  make  good  friends,"  he  added,  turning  to 
the  widow;  "that  clears  our  accounts  till  the  end  of  the 
year.     Can  you  give  me  change  for  a  five-franc  piece  ?  " 

"  Good  friends  make  short  reckonings,"  echoed  Poiret, 
with  a  glance  at  Vautrin. 

**  Here  is  your  franc,"  said  Rastignac,  holding  out  the  coin 
to  the  sphinx  in  the  black  wig. 

"  Any  one  might  think  that  you  were  afraid  to  owe  me  a 
trifle,"  exclaimed  the  latter,  with  a  searching  glance  that 
seemed  to  read  the  young  man's  inmost  thoughts ;  there  was 
a  satirical  and  cynical  smile  on  Vautrin's  face  such  as  Eugene 
had  seen  scores  of  times  already ;  every  time  he  saw  it,  it 
exasperated  him  almost  beyond  endurance. 

"  Well so  I  am,"  he  answered.     He  held  both  the 

bags  in  his  hand,  and  had  risen  to  go  up  to  his  room. 

Vautrin  made  as  if  he  were  going  out  through  the  sitting- 
room,  and  the  student  turned  to  go  through  the  second  door 
that  opened  into  the  square  lobby  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase. 

"  Do  you  know.  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Rastignacorama, 
that  what  you  were  saying  just  now  was  not  exactly  polite  ?  " 
Vautrin  remarked,  as  he  rattled  his  sword-cane  across  the  panels 
of  the  sitting-room  door,  and  rnme  up  to  the  student. 

Rastignac  looked  coolly  at  Vautrin,  drew  him  to  the  foot 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  VSl 

of  the  staircase,  and  shut  the  dining-room  door.  They  were 
standing  in  the  Httle  square  lobby  between  the  kitchen  and 
the  dining-room ;  the  place  was  lighted  by  an  iron-barred 
fanlight  above  a  door  that  gave  access  into  the  garden.  Sylvie 
came  out  of  her  kitchen,  and  Eugene  chose  that  moment  to 
say — 

"  J/^«j-zV«r  Vautrin,  I  am  not  a  marquis,  and  my  name  is 
not  Rastignacorama. " 

"They  will  fight,"  said  Mile.  Michonneau,  in  an  indiffer- 
ent tone. 

"  Fight  !  "  echoed  Poiret. 

*'  Not  they,"  replied  Mnie.  Vauquer,  lovingly  fingering 
her  pile  of  coins. 

"But  there  they  are  under  the  lime  trees,"  cried  Mile. 
Victorine,  who  had  risen  so  that  she  might  see  out  into  the 
garden.     "Poor  young  man  !  he  was  in  the  right,  after  all." 

"We  must  go  upstairs,  my  pet,"  said  Mme.  Couture;  "it 
is  no  business  of  ours." 

At  the  door,  however,  Mme.  Couture  and  Victorine  found 
their  progress  barred  by  the  portly  form  of  Sylvie  the  cook. 

"  What  ever  can  have  happened  ?  "  she  said.  "  M.  Vautrin 
said  to  M.  Eugene,  '  Let  us  have  an  explanation  !  '  then  he 
took  him  by  the  arm,  and  there  they  are,  out  among  the 
artichokes." 

Vautrin  came  in  while  she  was  speaking.  "  Mamma 
Vauquer,"  he  said,  smiling,  "don't  frighten  yourself  at  all. 
I  am  only  going  to  try  my  pistols  under  the  lime  trees." 

"Oil  !  monsieur,"  cried  Victorine,  clasping  her  hands  as 
she  spoke,  "  why  do  you  want  to  kill  M.  Eugene  ?  " 

Vautrin  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two,  and  gazed  at  Victorine. 

"  Oh  !  this  is  something  fresh  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  banter- 
ing tone,  that  brought  the  color  into  the  poor  girl's  face. 
"  That  young  fellow  yonder  is  very  nice,  isn't  he?  "  he  went 
on.  "You  have  given  me  a  notion,  my  pretty  child;  I  will 
make  you  both  happy." 


108  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Mme.  Couture  laid  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  ward,  and 
drew  the  girl  away,  as  she  said  in  her  ear — 

"  Why,  Victorine,  I  cannot  imagine  what  has  come  over 
you  this  morning." 

"  I  don't  want  any  shots  fired  in  my  garden,"  said  Mme. 
Vauquer.  "  You  will  frighten  the  neighborhood  and  bring 
the  police  up  here  all  in  a  moment." 

"  Come,  keep  cool,  Mamma  Vauquer,"  answered  Vautrin. 
"There,  there;  it's  all  right;  we  will  go  to  the  shooting- 
gallery." 

He  went  back  to  Rastignac,  laying  his  hand  familiarly  on 
the  young  man's  arm. 

"  When  I  have  given  you  ocular  demonstrations  of  the  fact 
that  I  can  put  a  bullet  through  the  ace  on  a  card  five  times 
running  at  thirty-five  paces,"  he  said,  "  that  won't  take  away 
your  appetite,  I  suppose.  You  look  to  me  to  be  inclined  to 
be  a  trifle  quarrelsome  this  morning,  and  as  if  you  would  rush 
on  your  death  like  a  blockhead." 

"  Do  you  draw  back?  "  asked  Eugdne. 

"  Don't  try  to  raise  my  temperature,"  answered  Vautrin  ; 
"it  is  not  cold  this  morning.  Let  us  go  and  sit  over  there," 
he  added,  pointing  to  the  green-painted  garden  seats ;  "  no 
one  can  overhear  us.  I  want  a  little  talk  with  you.  You  are 
not  a  bad  sort  of  youngster,  and  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you. 
I  like  you,  take  Tromp — (confound  it !) — take  Vautrin's  word 
for  it.  What  makes  me  like  you  ?  I  will  tell  you  by-and-by. 
Meantime,  I  can  tell  you  that  I  know  you  as  well  as  if  I  had 
made  you  myself,  as  I  will  prove  to  you  in  a  minute.  Put 
down  your  bags,"  he  continued,  pointing  to  the  round  table. 

Rastignac  deposited  his  money  on  the  table,  and  sat  down. 
He  was  consumed  with  curiosity,  which  the  sudden  change  in 
the  manner  of  the  man  before  him  had  excited  to  the  highest 
pitch.  Here  was  a  strange  being  who,  a  moment  ago,  had 
talked  of  killing  him,  and  now  posed  as  his  protector. 

*'  You  would  like  to  know  who  I  really  am,  what  I  was, 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  109 

and  what  I  do  now,"  Vautrin  went  on  "You  want  to  know 
too  much,  youngster.  Come  !  come  !  keep  cool !  You  will 
hear  more  astonishing  things  than  that.  I  have  had  my  mis- 
fortunes. Just  hear  me  out  first,  and  you  shall  have  your  turn 
afterwards.  Here  is  my  past  in  three  words.  Who  am  I  ? 
Vautrin.  What  do  I  do?  Just  what  I  please.  Let  us  change 
the  subject.  You  want  to  know  my  character.  I  am  good- 
natured  to  those  who  do  me  a  good  turn,  or  to  those  whose 
hearts  speak  to  mine.  These  last  may  do  anything  they  like 
with  me ;  they  may  bruise  my  shins,  and  I  shall  not  tell  them 
to  'mind  what  they  are  about;*  but,  notn  d'une  pipe,  the 
devil  himself  is  not  an  uglier  customer  than  I  can  be  if  people 
annoy  me,  or  if  I  don't  happen  to  take  to  them  ;  and  you 
may  just  as  well  know  at  once  that  I  think  no  more  of  killing 
a  man  than  of  that,"  and  he  spat  before  him  as  he  spoke. 
"  Only  when  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  do  so,  I  do  my  best 
to  kill  him  properly.  I  am  what  you  call  an  artist.  I  have 
read  Benvenuto  Cellini's  "Memoirs,"  such  as  you  see  me; 
and,  what  is  more,  in  Italian  !  A  fine-spirited  fellow  he  was  ! 
From  him  I  learned  to  follow  the  example  set  us  by  Provi- 
dence, who  strikes  us  down  at  random,  and  to  admire  the 
beautiful  whenever  and  wherever  it  is  found.  And,  setting 
other  questions  aside,  is  it  not  a  glorious  part  to  play,  when 
you  pit  yourself  against  mankind,  and  the  luck  is  on  your 
side  ?  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  the  constitution  of 
your  present  social  dis-order.  A  duel  is  downright  childish, 
my  boy  !  utter  nonsense  and  folly  !  When  one  of  two  living 
men  must  be  gotten  out  of  the  way,  none  but  an  idiot  would 
leave  chance  to  decide  which  it  is  to  be ;  and  in  a  duel  it  is  a 
toss-up — heads  or  tails — and  there  you  are  !  Now  I,  for  in- 
stance, can  hit  the  ace  in  the  middle  of  a  card  five  times  run- 
ning, send  one  bullet  after  another  through  the  same  hole, 
and  at  thirty-five  paces,  moreover  !  With  that  little  accom- 
plishment you  might  think  yourself  certain  of  killing  your 
man,  mightn't  you  ?    Well,  I  have  fired  at  twenty  paces  and 


110  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

missed,  and  the  rogue  who  had  never  handled  a  pistol  in  his 
life — look  here  !  " — (he  unbuttoned  his  waistcoat  and  ex- 
posed his  chest,  covered,  like  a  bear's  back,  with  a  shaggy 
fell ;  the  student  gave  a  startled  shudder) — "  he  was  a  raw  lad, 
but  he  made  his  mark  on  me,"  the  extraordinary  man  went 
on,  drawing  Rastignac's  fingers  over  a  deep  scar  on  his  breast. 
"But  that  happened  when  I  myself  was  a  mere  boy;  I  wa-. 
one-and-twenty  then  (your  age),  and  I  had  some  beliefs  left — 
in  a  woman's  love,  and  in  a  pack  of  rubbish  that  you  will  be 
over  head  and  ears  in  directly.  You  and  I  were  to  have 
fought  just  now,  weren't  we?  You  might  have  killed  me. 
Suppose  that  I  were  put  under  the  earth,  where  would  you  be  ? 
You  would  have  to  clear  out  of  this,  go  to  Switzerland,  draw 
on  papa's  purse — and  he  has  none  too  much  in  it  as  it  is.  I 
mean  to  open  your  eyes  to  your  real  position,  that  is  what 
I  am  going  to  do  ;  but  I  shall  do  it  from  the  point  of  view 
of  a  man  who,  after  studying  the  world  very  closely,  sees  that 
there  are  but  two  alternatives — stupid  obedience  or  revolt. 
I  obey  nobody ;  is  that  clear  ?  Now,  do  you  know  how  much 
you  will  want  at  the  pace  you  are  going  ?  A  million ;  and 
promptly,  too,  or  that  little  head  of  ours  will  be  swaying  to 
and  fro  in  the  drag-nets  at  Saint-Cloud,  while  we  are  gone  to 
find  out  whether  or  no  there  is  a  Supreme  Being.  I  will  put 
you  in  the  way  of  that  million." 

He  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked  at  Eugene. 

"  Aha !  you  do  not  look  so  sourly  at  Papa  Vautrin  now  ! 
At  the  mention  of  the  million  you  look  like  a  young  girl  when 
somebody  has  said,  '  I  will  come  for  you  this  evening  !  '  and 
she  betakes  herself  to  her  toilet  as  a  cat  licks  its  whiskers 
over  a  saucer  of  milk.  All  right.  Come,  now,  let  us  go  into 
the  question,  young  man  ;  all  between  ourselves,  you  know. 
We  have  a  papa  and  a  mamma  down  yonder,  a  great-aunt, 
two  sisters  (aged  eighteen  and  seventeen),  two  young  brothers 
(one  fifteen  and  the  other  ten),  that  is  about  the  roll-call  of 
the  crew.    The  aunt  brings  up  the  two  sisters ;  the  cur6  comes 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  HI 

and  teaches  the  boys  Latin.  Boiled  chestnuts  are  oftener  on 
the  table  than  white  bread.  Papa  makes  a  suit  of  clothes  last 
a  long  while  ;  if  mamma  has  a  different  dress  winter  and  sum- 
mer, it  is  about  as  much  as  she  has  ;  the  sisters  manage  as 
best  they  can.     I  know  all  about  it ;  I  have  lived  in  the  south. 

"  That  is  how  things  are  at  home.  They  send  you  twelve 
hundred  francs  a  year,  and  the  whole  property  only  brings  in 
three  thousand  francs  all  told.  We  have  a  cook  and  a  man- 
servant ;  papa  is  a  baron,  and  we  must  keep  up  appearances. 
Then  we  have  our  ambitions  ;  we  are  connected  with  the 
Beauseants,  and  we  go  afoot  through  the  streets  ;  we  want  to 
be  rich,  and  we  have  not  a  penny ;  we  eat  Mme.  Vauquer's 
messes,  and  we  like  grand  dinners  in  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Germain  ;  we  sleep  on  a  truckle-bed,  and  dream  of  a  mansion  ! 
I  do  not  blame  you  for  wanting  these  things.  It  is  not  given 
to  every  one  to  have  ambition,  my  little  trump.  What  sort 
of  men  do  the  women  run  after  ?  Men  of  ambition.  Men 
of  ambition  have  stronger  frames,  their  blood  is  richer  in 
iron,  their  hearts  are  warmer  than  those  of  ordinary  men. 
Women  feel  that  when  their  power  is  greatest  they  look  their 
best,  and  that  those  are  their  happiest  hours ;  they  like  power 
in  men,  and  prefer  the  strongest  even  if  it  is  a  power  that  may 
be  their  own  destruction.  I  am  going  to  make  an  inventory 
of  your  desires  in  order  to  put  the  question  at  issue  before 
you.     Here  it  is — 

"  We  are  as  hungry  as  a  wolf,  and  those  newly-cut  teeth  of 
ours  are  sharp;  what  are  we  to  do  to  keep  the  pot  boiling? 
In  the  first  place,  we  have  the  Code  to  browse  upon  ;  it  is  not 
amusing,  and  we  are  none  the  wiser  for  it,  but  that  cannot 
be  helped.  So  far  so  good.  We  mean  to  make  an  advocate 
of  ourselves  with  a  prospect  of  one  day  being  made  president 
of  a  court  of  assize,  when  we  shall  send  poor  devils,  our 
betters,  to  the  galleys  with  a  T.  F.*  on  their  shoulders,  so  that 
the  rich  may  be  convinced  that  they  can  sleep  in  peace. 
*  Travaux  fords. 


112  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

There  is  no  fun  in  that ;  and  you  are  a  long  while  coming  to 
it ;  for,  to  begin  with,  there  are  two  years  of  nauseous 
drudgery  in  Paris,  we  see  all  the  lollipops  that  we  long  for 
out  of  our  reach.  It  is  tiresome  to  want  things  and  never  to 
have  them.  If  you  were  a  pallid  creature  of  the  mollusc 
order,  you  would  have  nothing  to  fear,  but  it  is  different  when 
you  have  the  hot  blood  of  a  lion  and  are  ready  to  get  into  a 
score  of  scrapes  every  day  of  your  life.  This  is  the  ghastliest 
form  of  torture  known  in  this  inferno  of  God's  making,  and 
you  will  give  in  to  it.  Or  suppose  that  you  are  a  good  boy, 
drink  nothing  stronger  than  milk,  and  bemoan  your  hard  lot ; 
you,  with  your  generous  nature,  will  endure  hardships  that 
would  drive  a  dog  mad,  and  make  a  start,  after  long  waiting, 
as  deputy  to  some  rascal  or  other  in  a  hole  of  a  place  where 
the  government  will  fling  you  a  thousand  francs  a  year  like 
the  scraps  that  are  thrown  to  the  butcher's  dog.  Bark  at 
thieves,  plead  the  cause  of  the  rich,  send  men  of  heart  to  the 
guillotine,  that  is  your  work !  Many  thanks  !  If  you  have 
no  influence,  you  may  rot  in  your  provincial  tribunal.  At 
thirty  you  will  be  a  justice  with  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year 
(if  you  have  not  flung  off  the  gown  for  good  before  then). 
By  the  time  you  are  forty  you  may  look  to  marry  a  miller's 
daughter,  an  heiress  with  some  six  thousand  livres  a  year. 
Much  obliged  !  If  you  have  influence,  you  may  possibly  be 
public  prosecutor  by  the  time  you  are  thirty ;  with  a  salary  of 
a  thousand  crowns,  you  could  look  to  marry  the  mayor's 
daughter.  Some  petty  piece  of  political  trickery,  such  as 
mistaking  Villele  for  Manuel  in  a  bulletin  (the  names  rhyme, 
and  that  quiets  your  conscience),  and  you  will  probably  be 
procureur  general  by  the  time  you  are  forty,  with  a  chance  of 
becoming  a  deputy.  Please  to  observe,  my  dear  boy,  that 
our  conscience  will  have  been  a  little  damaged  in  the  process, 
and  that  we  shall  endure  twenty  years  of  drudgery  and  hidden 
poverty,  and  that  our  sisters  are  wearing  Dian's  livery.  I 
have  the  honor  to  call  your  attention  to  another  fact,  to  wit : 


FATHER    GGRIOT.  113 

that  there  are  but  twenty  procureurs  gen^raux  at  a  time  in  all 
France,  while  there  are  some  twenty  thousand  of  you  young 
men  who  aspire  to  that  elevated  position  ;  that  there  are  some 
mountebanks  among  you  who  would  sell  their  family  to  screw 
their  fortunes  a  peg  higher.  If  this  sort  of  thing  sickens  you, 
try  another  course.  The  Baron  de  Rastignac  thinks  of  becom- 
ing an  advocate,  does  he  ?  There's  a  nice  prospect  for  you  ! 
Ten  years  of  drudgery  straight  away.  You  are  obliged  to 
live  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  francs  a  month ;  you  must  have 
a  library  of  law-books,  live  in  chambers,  go  into  society,  go 
down  on  your  knees  to  ask  a  solicitor  for  briefs,  lick  the  dust 
off  the  floor  of  the  Palais  de  Justice.  If  this  kind  of  business 
led  to  anything,  I  should  not  say  no  ;  but  just  give  me  the 
names  of  five  advocates  here  in  Paris  who  by  the  time  that 
they  are  fifty  are  making  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year  !  Bah  ! 
I  would  sooner  turn  pirate  on  the  high-seas  than  have  my  soul 
shrivel  up  inside  me  like  that.  How  will  you  find  the  capital  ? 
There  is  but  one  way,  marry  a  woman  who  has  money.  There 
is  no  fun  in  it.  Have  you  a  mind  to  marry?  You  hang  a 
stone  round  your  neck  ;  for  if  you  marry  for  money,  what 
becomes  of  our  exalted  notions  of  honor  and  so  forth  ?  You 
might  as  well  fly  in  the  face  of  social  conventions  at  once. 
Is  it  nothing  to  crawl  like  a  serpent  before  your  wife,  to  lick 
her  mother's  feet,  to  descend  to  dirty  actions  that  would 
sicken  swine — faugh  ! — never  mind  if  you  at  least  make  your 
fortune.  But  you  will  be  as  doleful  as  a  dripstone  if  you 
marry  for  money.  It  is  better  to  wrestle  with  men  than  to 
wrangle  at  home  with  your  wife.  You  are  at  the  crossway  of 
the  roads  of  life,  my  boy  ;  choose  your  way. 

"  But  you  have  chosen  already.  You  have  gone  to  see  your 
cousin  of  Beaus^ant,  and  you  have  had  an  inkling  of  luxury ; 
you  have  been  to  Madame  de  Restaud's  house,  and  in  Father 
Goriot's  daughter  you  have  seen  a  glimpse  of  the  Parisienne 
for  the  first  time.  That  day  you  came  back  with  a  word 
written   upon  your  forehead.     I  knew  it,  I  could  read  it — 


114  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

*  Success /^  Yes,  success  at  any  price.  'Bravo,'  said  I  to 
myself,  'here  is  the  sort  of  fellow  for  me.'  You  wanted 
money.  Where  was  it  to  come  from  ?  You  have  drained 
your  sisters'  little  hoards  (all  brothers  sponge  more  or  less  on 
their  sisters).  Those  fifteen  hundred  francs  of  yours  (got 
together,  God  knows  how  !  in  a  country  where  there  are  more 
chestnuts  than  five-franc  pieces)  will  slip  away  like  soldiers 
after  pillage.  And,  then,  what  will  you  do?  Shall  you  begin 
to  work?  Work,  or  what  you  understand  by  work  at  this 
moment,  means,  for  a  man  of  Poiret's  calibre,  an  old  age  in 
Mamma  Vauquer's  lodging-house.  There  are  fifty  thousand 
young  men  in  your  position  at  this  moment,  all  bent  as  you 
are  on  solving  one  and  the  same  problem — how  to  acquire  a 
fortune  rapidly.  You  are  but  a  unit  in  that  aggregate.  You 
can  guess,  therefore,  what  efforts  you  must  make,  how  desperate 
the  struggle  is.  There  are  not  fifty  thousand  good  positions 
for  you ;  you  must  fight  and  devour  one  another  like  spiders 
in  a  pot.  Do  you  know  how  a  man  makes  his  way  here  ? 
By  brilliant  genius  or  by  skillful  corruption.  You  must  either 
cut  your  way  through  these  masses  of  men  like  a  cannon- 
ball  or  steal  among  them  like  a  plague.  Honesty  is  nothing 
to  the  purpose.  Men  bow  before  the  power  of  genius  ;  they 
hate  it,  and  try  to  slander  it,  because  genius  does  not  divide 
the  spoil ;  but  if  genius  persists,  they  bow  before  it.  To 
sum  it  all  up  in  a  phrase,  if  they  fail  to  smother  genius  in  the 
mud,  they  fall  on  their  knees  and  worship  it.  Corruption  is 
a  great  power  in  the  world,  and  talent  is  scarce.  So  corruption 
is  the  weapon  of  superfluous  mediocrity ;  you  will  be  made  to 
feel  the  point  of  it  everywhere.  You  will  see  women  who 
spend  more  than  ten  thousand  francs  a  year  on  dress,  while 
their  husband's  salary  (his  whole  income)  is  but  six  thousand 
francs.  You  will  see  officials  buying  estates  on  twelve  hundred 
francs  a  year.  You  will  see  women  who  sell  themselves  body 
and  soul  to  drive  in  a  carriage  belonging  to  a  son  of  a 
peer   of  France,  who  has  a   right  to  drive    in  the   middle 


FATHER    GORIOT.  115 

rank  at  Longchamp.  You  have  seen  that  poor  simpleton  of 
a  Goriot  obliged  to  meet  a  bill  with  his  daughter's  name 
at  the  back  of  it,  though  her  husband  has  fifty  thousand 
francs  a  year.  I  defy  you  to  walk  a  couple  of  yards  any- 
where in  Paris  without  stumbling  on  some  infernal  compli- 
cation. I'll  bet  my  head  to  a  head  of  that  salad  that  you 
will  stir  up  a  hornet's  nest  by  taking  a  fancy  to  the  first 
young,  rich,  and  pretty  woman  you  meet.  They  are  all 
dodging  the  law,  all  at  loggerheads  with  their  husbands. 
If  I  were  to  begin  to  tell  you  all  that  vanity  or  necessity 
(virtue  is  not  often  mixed  up  in  it,  you  may  be  sure),  all 
that  vanity  and  necessity  drive  them  to  do  for  lovers, 
finery,  housekeeping,  or  children,  I  should  never  come  to  an 
end.     So  an  honest  man  is  the  common  enemy. 

"  But  do  you  know  what  an  honest  man  is?  Here,  in  Paris, 
an  honest  man  is  the  man  who  keeps  his  own  counsel,  and 
will  not  divide  the  plunder.  I  am  not  speaking  now  of  those 
poor  bond-slaves  who  do  the  work  of  the  world  without  a 
reward  for  their  toil — God  Almighty's  outcasts,  I  call  them. 
Among  them,  I  grant  you,  is  virtue  in  all  the  flower  of  its 
stupidity,  but  poverty  is  no  less  their  portion.  At  this  mo- 
ment, I  think  I  see  the  long  faces  those  good  folk  would  pull 
if  God  played  a  practical  joke  on  them  and  stayed  away  at 
the  last  judgment. 

"Well,  then,  if  you  mean  to  make  a  fortune  quickly,  you 
must  either  be  rich  to  begin  with,  or  make  people  believe  that 
you  are  rich.  It  is  no  use  playing  here  except  for  high  stakes  ; 
once  take  to  low  play,  it  is  all  up  with  you.  If  in  the  scores 
of  professions  that  are  open  to  you,  there  are  ten  men  who 
rise  very  rapidly,  people  are  sure  to  call  them  thieves.  You 
can  draw  your  own  conclusions.  Such  is  life.  It  is  no 
cleaner  than  a  kitchen  ;  it  reeks  like  a  kitchen  ;  and  if  you 
mean  to  cook  your  dinner,  you  must  expect  to  soil  your  hands; 
the  real  art  is  in  getting  them  clean  again,  and  therein  lies 
the   whole   morality  of  our   epoch.     If  I    take   this   tone   in 


116  FATHER    GOPIOT. 

speaking  of  the  world  to  you,  I  have  the  right  to  do  so ;  I 
know  it  well.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  blaming  it  ?  Far  from 
it ;  the  world  has  always  been  as  it  is  now.  Moralists'  stric- 
tures will  never  change  it.  Mankind  is  not  perfect,  but  one 
age  is  more  or  less  hypocritical  than  another,  and  then  simple- 
tons say  that  its  morality  is  high  or  low.  I  do  not  think  that 
the  rich  are  any  worse  than  the  poor  ;  man  is  much  the  same, 
high  or  low,  or  wherever  he  is.  In  a  million  of  these  human 
cattle  there  may  be  half  a  score  of  bold  spirits  who  rise  above 
the  rest,  above  the  laws ;  I  am  one  of  them.  And  you,  if 
you  are  cleverer  than  your  fellows,  make  straight  to  your  end, 
and  hold  your  head  high.  But  you  must  lay  your  account  with 
envy  and  slander  and  mediocrity,  and  every  man's  hand  will 
be  against  you.  Napoleon  met  with  a  minister  of  war,  Aubry 
by  name,  who  all  but  sent  him  to  the  colonies. 

"  Feel  your  pulse.  Think  whether  you  can  get  up  morning 
after  morning,  strengthened  in  yesterday's  purpose.  In  that 
case  I  will  make  you  an  offer  that  no  one  would  decline. 
Listen  attentively.  You  see,  I  have  an  idea  of  my  own.  My 
idea  is  to  live  a  patriarchal  life  on  a  vast  estate,  say  a  hundred 
thousand  acres,  somewhere  in  the  Southern  States  of  America. 
I  mean  to  be  a  planter,  to  have  slaves,  to  make  a  few  snug 
millions  by  selling  my  cattle,  timber,  and  tobacco ;  I  want  to 
live  an  absolute  monarch,  and  to  do  just  as  I  please ;  to  lead 
such  a  life  as  no  one  here  in  these  squalid  dens  of  lath  and 
plaster  ever  imagines.  I  am  a  great  poet ;  I  do  not  write  my 
poems,  I  feel  them,  and  act  them.  At  this  moment  I  have 
fifty  thousand  francs,  which  might  possibly  buy  forty  negroes. 
I  want  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  because  I  want  to  have 
two  hundred  negroes  to  carry  out  my  notions  of  the  patriarchal 
life  properly,  Negroes,  you  see,  are  like  a  sort  of  family 
ready  grown,  and  there  are  no  inquisitive  public  prosecutors 
out  there  to  interfere  with  you.  That  investment  in  ebony 
ought  to  mean  three  or  four  million  francs  in  ten  years'  time. 
If  I  am  successful,  no  one  will  ask  me  who  I  am.     I  shall  be 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  117 

Mr.  Four  Millions,  an  American  citizen.  I  shall  be  fifty  years 
old  by  then,  and  sound  and  hearty  still ;  I  shall  enjoy  life 
after  my  own  fashion.  In  two  words,  if  I  find  you  an  heiress 
with  a  million,  will  you  give  me  two  hundred  thousand  francs? 
Twenty  per  cent,  commission,  eh?  Is  that  too  much?  Your 
little  wife  will  be  very  much  in  love  with  you.  Once  married, 
you  will  show  signs  of  uneasiness  and  remorse ;  for  a  couple 
of  weeks  you  will  be  depressed.  Then,  some  night,  after 
sundry  grimacings,  comes  the  confession,  between  two  kisses, 
'  Two  hundred  thousand  francs  of  debts,  my  darling  !  '  This 
sort  of  farce  is  played  every  day  in  Paris,  and  by  young  men  of 
the  highest  fashion.  When  a  young  wife  has  given  her  heart,  she 
will  not  refuse  her  purse.  Perhaps  you  are  thinking  that  you 
will  lose  the  money  for  good  ?  Not  you.  You  will  make  two 
hundred  thousand  francs  again  by  some  stroke  of  business.  With 
your  capital  and  your  brains  you  should  be  able  to  accunciulate 
as  large  a  fortune  as  you  could  wish.  Ergo,  in  six  months  you 
will  have  made  your  own  fortune,  and  your  old  friend  Vau- 
trin's,  and  made  an  amiable  woman  very  happy,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  your  people  at  home,  who  must  blow  on  their  fingers 
to  warm  them,  in  the  winter,  for  lack  of  firewood.  You  need 
not  be  surprised  at  my  proposal,  nor  at  the  demand  I  make. 
Forty-seven  out  of  every  sixty  great  matches  here  in  Paris  are 
made  after  just  such  a  bargain  as  this.  The  Chamber  of 
Notaries  compels  my  gentlemen  to " 

"What  must  I  do?"  said  Rastignac,  eagerly  interrupting 
Vautrin's  speech. 

"  Next  to  nothing,"  returned  the  other,  with  a  slight  in- 
voluntary movement,  the  suppressed  exultation  of  the  angler 
when  he  feels  a  bite  at  the  end  of  his  line.  "  Follow  me 
carefully  !  The  heart  of  a  girl  whose  life  is  wretched  and 
unhappy  is  a  sponge  that  will  thirstily  absorb  love  ;  a  dry 
sponge  that  swells  at  the  first  drop  of  sentiment.  If  you  pay 
court  to  a  young  girl  whose  existence  is  a  compound  of  lone- 
liness, despair,  and  poverty,  and  who  has  no  suspicion  that 


118  FATHER    GORIOT. 

she  will  come  into  a  fortune,  good  Lord  !  it  is  quint  and 
quatorze  at  piquet ;  it  is  knowing  the  numbers  of  the  lottery 
beforehand ;  it  is  speculating  in  the  funds  when  you  have 
news  from  a  sure  source  ;  it  is  building  up  a  marriage  on  an 
indestructible  foundation.  The  girl  may  come  in  for  millions, 
and  she  will  fling  them,  as  if  they  were  so  many  pebbles,  at 
your  feet.  *  Take  it,  my  beloved  !  Take  it,  Alfred,  Adolphe, 
Eugdne  ! '  or  whoever  it  was  that  showed  his  sense  by  sacri- 
ficing himself  for  her.  And  as  for  sacrificing  himself,  this  is 
how  I  understand  it.  You  sell  a  coat  that  is  getting  shabby, 
so  that  you  can  take  her  to  the  Cadran  bleu,  treat  her  to 
mushrooms  on  toast,  and  then  go  to  the  Ambigu-Comique  in 
the  evening ;  you  pawn  your  watch  to  buy  her  a  shawl.  I 
need  not  remind  you  of  the  fiddle-faddle  sentimentality  that 
goes  down  so  well  with  all  women  ;  you  spill  a  few  drops  of 
water  on  your  stationery,  for  instance  ;  those  are  the  tears 
you  shed  while  far  away  from  her.  You  look  to  me  as  if  you 
were  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  argot  of  the  heart.  Paris, 
you  see,  is  like  a  forest  in  the  New  World,  where  you  have  to 
deal  with  a  score  of  varieties  of  savages — Iroquois  and  Hurons — 
who  live  on  the  proceeds  of  their  social  hunting.  You  are  a 
hunter  of  millions ;  you  set  your  snares ;  you  use  lures  and 
nets  ;  there  are  many  ways  of  hunting.  Some  hunt  heiresses, 
others  a  legacy  ;  some  fish  for  souls,  yet  others  sell  their 
clients,  bound  hand  and  foot.  Every  one  who  comes  back 
from  the  chase  with  his  game-bag  well  filled  meets  with  a 
warm  welcome  in  good  society.  In  justice  to  this  hospitable 
part  of  the  world,  it  must  be  said  that  you  have  to  do  with 
the  most  easy  and  good-natured  of  great  cities.  If  the  proud 
aristocracies  of  the  rest  of  Europe  refuse  admittance  among 
their  ranks  to  a  disreputable  millionaire,  Paris  stretches  out  a 
hand  to  him,  goes  to  his  banquets,  eats  his  dinners,  and  hob- 
nobs with  his  infamy." 

"  But  where  is  such  a  girl  to  be  found?  "  asked  Eugene. 

"Under  your  eyes  ;  she  is  yours  already." 


FATHER    GO  RIOT  119 

"Mile.  Victorine?" 

"  Precisely." 

"  And  what  was  that  you  said  ?  " 

"She  is  in  love  with  you  already,  your  little  Baronne  de 
Rastignac  !  " 

"  She  has  not  a  penny,"  Eugene  continued,  much  mysti- 
fied. 

"Ah  !  now  we  are  coming  to  it  !  Just  another  word  or 
two,  and  it  will  all  be  clear  enough.  Her  father,  Taillefer,  is 
an  old  scoundrel ;  it  is  said  that  he  murdered  one  of  his 
friends  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution.  He  is  one  of  your 
comedians  that  sets  up  to  have  opinions  of  his  own.  He  is  a 
banker — senior  partner  in  the  house  of  Frederic  Taillefer  and 
Company.  He  has  one  son,  and  means  to  leave  all  he  has  to 
the  boy,  to  the  prejudice  of  Victorine.  For  my  part,  I  don't 
like  to  see  injustice  of  this  sort.  I  am  like  Don  Quixote,  I 
have  a  fancy  for  defending  the  weak  against  the  strong.  If  it 
should  please  God  to  take  that  youth  away  from  him,  Taillefer 
would  only  have  his  daughter  left ;  he  would  want  to  leave  his 
money  to  some  one  or  other ;  an  absurd  notion,  but  it  is  only 
human  nature,  and  he  is  not  likely  to  have  any  more  chil- 
dren, as  I  know.  Victorine  is  gentle  and  amiable ;  she  will 
soon  twist  her  father  round  her  fingers,  and  set  his  head  spin- 
ning like  a  German  top  by  plying  him  with  sentiment !  She 
will  be  too  much  touched  by  your  devotion  to  forget  you; 
you  will  marry  her,  I  mean  to  play  Providence  for  you,  and 
Providence  is  to  do  my  will.  I  have  a  friend  whom  I  have 
attached  closely  to  myself,  a  colonel  in  the  Army  of  the  Loire, 
who  has  just  been  transferred  into  the  garde  royale.  He  has 
taken  my  advice  and  turned  ultra-royalist ;  he  is  not  one  of 
those  fools  who  never  change  their  opinions.  Of  all  pieces 
of  advice,  my  cherub,  I  would  give  you  this — don't  stick  to 
your  opinions  any  more  than  to  your  words.  If  any  one  asks 
you  for  them,  let  him  have  them — at  a  price.  A  man  who 
prides  himself  on  going  in  a  straight  line  through  life  is  an 


120  FATHER   GORfOT. 

idiot  who  believes  in  infallibility.  There  are  no  such  things 
as  principles ;  there  are  only  events,  and  there  are  no  laws 
but  those  of  expediency :  a  man  of  talent  accepts  events  and 
the  circumstances  in  which  he  finds  himself,  and  turns  every- 
thing to  his  own  ends.  If  laws  and  principles  were  fixed  and 
invariable,  nations  would  not  change  them  as  readily  as  we 
change  our  shirts.  The  individual  is  not  obliged  to  be  more 
particular  than  the  nation.  A  man  whose  services  to  France 
have  been  of  the  very  slightest  is  a  fetich  looked  on  with 
superstitious  awe  because  he  has  always  seen  everything  in  red  ; 
but  he  is  good,  at  the  most,  to  be  put  into  the  Museum  of 
Arts  and  Crafts,  among  the  automatic  machines,  and  labeled 
La  Fayette ;  while  the  prince  at  whom  everybody  flings  a 
stone,  the  man  who  despises  humanity  so  much  that  he  spits 
as  many  oaths  as  he  is  asked  for  in  the  face  of  humanity, 
saved  France  from  being  torn  in  pieces  at  the  Congress  of 
Vienna ;  and  they  who  should  have  given  him  laurels  fling 
mud  at  him.  Oh  !  I  know  something  of  affairs,  I  can  tell 
you  ;  I  have  the  secrets  of  many  men !  Enough.  When  I 
find  three  minds  in  agreement  as  to  the  application  of  a  prin- 
ciple, I  shall  have  a  fixed  and  immovable  opinion — I  shall 
have  to  wait  a  long  while  first.  In  the  Tribunals  you  will  not 
find  three  judges  of  the  same  opinion  on  a  single  point  of 
law.  To  return  to  the  man  I  was  telling  you  of.  He  would 
crucify  Jesus  Christ  again,  if  I  bade  him.  At  a  word  from 
his  old  chum  Vautrin  he  will  pick  a  quarrel  with  a  scamp  that 
will  not  send  so  much  as  five  francs  to  his  sister,  poor  girl, 
and  " — (here  Vautrin  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  like  a  fencing- 
master  about  to  lunge) — "  turn  him  off"  into  the  dark  !"  he 
added. 

"How  frightful!"  said  Eugene.  "You  do  not  really 
mean  it  ?  M.  Vautrin,  you  are  joking  !  I  cannot  believe 
that  you  are  sincere  in  what  your  are  saying." 

"There!  there!  Keep  cool !"  said  the  other.  "Don't 
behave  like  a  baby.     But  if  you  find  any  amusement  in  it,  be 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  121 

indignant,  flare  up  !  Say  that  I  am  a  scoundrel,  a  rascal,  a 
rogue,  a  bandit ;  but  do  not  call  me  a  blackleg  nor  a  spy  ! 
There,  out  with  it,  fire  away!  I  forgive  you;  it  is  quite 
natural  at  your  age.  I  was  like  that  myself  once.  Only  re- 
member this,  you  will  do  worse  things  yourself  some  day. 
You  will  flirt  with  some  pretty  woman  and  take  her  money. 
You  have  thought  of  that,  of  course,"  said  Vautrin,  "for  how 
are  you  to  succeed  unless  love  is  laid  under  contribution  ? 
There  are  no  two  ways  about  virtue,  my  dear  student ;  it 
either  is  or  it  is  not.  Talk  of  doing  penance  for  your  sins  ! 
It  is  a  nice  system  of  business,  when  you  pay  for  your  crime 
by  an  act  of  contrition  !  You  seduce  a  woman  that  you  may 
set  your  foot  on  such  and  such  a  rung  of  the  social  ladder ; 
you  sow  dissension  among  the  children  of  a  family ;  you 
descend,  in  short,  to  every  base  action  that  can  be  committed 
at  home  or  abroad  to  gain  your  own  ends  for  your  own 
pleasure  or  your  profit ;  and  can  you  imagine  that  these  are 
acts  of  faith,  hope,  or  charity  ?  How  is  it  that  a  dandy,  who 
in  a  night  has  robbed  a  boy  of  half  his  fortune,  gets  only  a 
couple  of  months  in  prison  ;  while  a  poor  devil  who  steals  a 
bank-note  for  a  thousand  francs,  with  aggravating  circum- 
stances, is  condemned  to  penal  servitude?  Those  are  your 
laws.  Not  a  single  provision  but  lands  you  in  some  absurdity. 
That  man  with  yellow  gloves  and  a  golden  tongue  commits 
many  a  murder  ;  he  sheds  no  blood,  but  he  drains  his  victim's 
veins  as  surely ;  a  desperado  forces  open  a  door  with  a  crow- 
bar, dark  deeds  both  of  them  !  You  yourself  will  do  every 
one  of  the  things  that  I  suggest  to  you  to-day,  bar  the  blood- 
shed. Do  you  believe  that  there  is  any  absolute  standard  in 
this  world  ?  Despise  mankind  and  find  out  the  meshes  that 
you  can  slip  through  in  the  net  of  the  Code.  The  secret  of  a 
great  success  for  which  you  are  at  a  loss  to  account  is  a  crime 
that  has  never  been  found  out,  because  it  was  properly 
executed." 

"Silence,  sir!     I  will  not  hear  anymore;  you  make  me 


122  FATHER    GORIOT. 

doubt  myself.  At  tins  moment  my  sentiments  are  all  my 
science." 

*' Just  as  you  please,  my  fine  fellow;  I  did  not  think  you 
were  so  weak-minded,"  said  Vautrin,  "I  shall  say  no  more 
about  it.  One  last  word,  however" — and  he  looked  hard 
at  the  student — "  you  have  my  secret,"  he  said. 

' '  A  young  man  who  refuses  your  offer  knows  that  he  must 
forget  it." 

"  Quite  right,  quite  right ;  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so. 
Somebody  else  might  not  be  so  scrupulous,  you  see.  Keep 
in  mind  what  I  want  to  do  for  you.  I  will  give  you  a 
fortnight.     The  offer  is  still  open." 

"  What  a  head  of  iron  the  man  has  !  "  said  Eugene  to  him- 
self as  he  watched  Vautrin  walk  unconcernedly  away  with  his 
cane  under  his  arm.  "  Yet  Mme.  de  Beauseant  said  as  much 
more  gracefully ;  he  has  only  stated  the  case  in  cruder  lan- 
guage. He  would  tear  my  heart  with  claws  of  steel.  What 
made  me  think  of  going  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen  ?  He  guessed 
my  motives  before  I  knew  them  myself.  To  sum  it  up,  that 
outlaw  has  told  me  more  about  virtue  than  all  I  have  learned 
from  men  and  books.  If  virtue  admits  of  no  compromises,  I 
have  certainly  robbed  my  sisters,"  he  said,  throwing  down 
the  bags  on  the  table. 

He  sat  down  again  and  fell,  unconscious  of  his  surround- 
ings, into  deep  thought. 

"  To  be  faithful  to  an  ideal  of  virtue  !  A  heroic  martyr- 
dom !  Pshaw  !  every  one  believes  in  virtue,  but  who  is 
virtuous?  Nations  have  made  an  idol  of  liberty,  but  what 
nation  on  the  face  of  the  earth  is  free  ?  My  youth  is  still  like 
a  blue  and  cloudless  sky.  If  I  set  myself  to  obtain  wealth 
or  power,  does  it  not  mean  that  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to 
lie,  and  fawn,  and  cringe,  and  swagger,  and  flatter,  and  dis- 
semble? To  consent  to  be  the  servant  of  others  who  have 
likewise  fawned,  and  lied,  and  flattered  ?  Must  I  cringe 
to   them  before  I  can  hope  to  be  their  accomplice  ?     Well, 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  ,  123 

then,  I  decline.  I  mean  to  work  nobly  and  with  a  single 
heart.  I  will  work  day  and  night ;  I  will  owe  my  fortune  to 
nothing  but  my  own  exertions.  It  may  be  the  slowest  of  all 
roads  to  success,  but  I  shall  lay  my  head  on  the  pillow  at 
night  untroubled  by  evil  thoughts.  Is  there  a  greater  or  a 
better  thing  than  this — to  look  back  over  your  life  and  know 
that  it  is  stainless  as  a  lily  !  I  and  my  life  are  like  a  young 
man  and  his  betrothed.  Vautrin  has  put  before  me  all  that 
comes  after  ten  years  of  marriage.  The  devil  !  my  head  is 
swimming.  I  do  not  want  to  think  at  all ;  the  heart  is  a  sure 
guide." 

Eugene  was  roused  from  his  musings  by  the  voice  of  the 
stout  Sylvie,  who  announced  that  the  tailor  had  come,  and 
Eugene  therefore  made  his  appearance  before  the  man  with 
the  two  money-bags,  and  was  not  ill  pleased  that  it  should  be 
so.  When  he  had  tried  on  his  dress  suit,  he  put  on  his  new 
morning  costume,  which  completely  metamorphosed  him. 

"I  am  quite  equal  to  M.  de  Trailles,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"In  short,  I  look  like  a  gentleman." 

"You  asked  me,  sir,  if  I  knew  the  houses  where  Mme.  de 
Nucingen  goes,"  Father  Goriot's  voice  spoke  from  the  door- 
way of  Eugene's  room. 

"Yes." 

"  Very  well  then,  she  is  going  to  the  Duchesse  de  Carigliano's 
ball  on  Monday.  If  you  can  manage  to  be  there,  I  shall 
hear  from  you  whether  my  two  girls  enjoyed  themselves,  and 
how  they  were  dressed,  and  all  about  it,  in  fact." 

"  How  did  you  find  that  out,  my  good  Goriot?  "  said  Eu- 
gene, putting  a  chair  by  the  fire  for  his  visitor. 

"Her  maid  told  me.  I  hear  all  about  their  doings  from 
Ther^se  and  Constance,"  he  added  gleefully. 

The  old  man  looked  like  a  lover  who  is  still  young  enough 
to  be  made  happy  by  the  discovery  of  some  little  stratagem 
which  brings  him  information  of  his  lady-love  without  her 
knowledge. 


124  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

"  You  will  see  them  both  !  "  he  said,  giving  artless  expres- 
sion to  a  pang  of  jealousy. 

"I  do  not  know,"  answered  Eugene.  "I  will  go  to  Mme. 
de  Beaus6ant  and  ask  her  to  give  me  an  introduction  to  the 
Duchesse." 

Eugdne  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  appearing 
before  the  Vicomtesse,  dressed  as  henceforward  he  always 
meant  to  be.  The  "abysses  of  the  human  heart,"  in  the 
moralists'  phrase,  are  only  insidious  thoughts,  involuntary 
promptings  of  personal  interest.  The  instinct  of  enjoyment 
turns  the  scale;  those  rapid  changes  of  purpose  which  have 
furnished  the  text  for  so  much  rhetoric  are  calculations 
prompted  by  the  hope  of  pleasure.  Rastignac,  beholding 
himself  well  dressed  and  impeccable  as  to  gloves  and  boots, 
forgot  his  virtuous  resolutions.  Youth,  moreover,  when  bent 
upon  wrong-doing  does  not  dare  to  behold  itself  in  the  mirror 
of  consciousness ;  mature  age  has  seen  itself;  and  therein 
lies  the  whole  difference  between  these  two  phases  of  life. 

A  friendship  between  Eugene  and  his  neighbor,  Father 
Goriot,  had  been  growing  up  for  several  days  past.  This 
secret  friendship  and  the  antipathy  that  the  student  had  begun 
to  entertain  for  Vautrin  arose  from  the  same  psychological 
causes.  The  bold  philosopher  who  shall  investigate  the  effects 
of  mental  action  upon  the  physical  world  will  doubtless  find 
more  than  one  proof  of  the  material  nature  of  our  sentiments 
in  the  relations  which  they  create  between  human  beings  and 
other  animals.  What  physiognomist  is  as  quick  to  discern  char- 
acter as  a  dog  is  to  discover  from  a  stranger's  face  whether 
this  is  a  friend  or  no?  Those  by-words — "atoms,"  "affini- 
ties"— are  facts  surviving  in  modern  languages  for  the  con- 
fusion of  philosophic  wiseacres  who  amuse  themselves  by 
winnowing  the  chaff  of  language  to  find  its  grammatical  roots. 
We  fed  that  we  are  loved.  Our  sentiments  make  themselves 
felt  in  everything,  even  at  a  great  distance.  A  letter  is  a 
living  soul,  and  so  faithful  an  echo  of  the  voice  that  speaks 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  125 

in  it  that  finer  natures  look  upon  a  letter  as  one  of  love's 
most  precious  treasures.  Father  Goriot's  affection  was  of  the 
instinctive  order,  a  canine  affection  raised  to  a  sublime  pitch ; 
he  had  scented  compassion  in  the  air,  and  the  kindly  respect 
and  youthful  sympathy  in  the  student's  heart.  This  friend- 
ship had,  however,  scarcely  reached  the  stage  at  which  confi- 
dences are  made.  Though  Eugene  had  spoken  of  his  wish 
to  meet  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  it  was  not  because  he  counted  on 
the  old  man  to  introduce  him  to  her  house,  for  he  hoped  that 
his  own  audacity  might  stand  him  in  good  stead.  All  that 
Father  Goriot  had  said  as  yet  about  his  daughters  had  referred 
to  the  remarks  that  the  student  had  made  so  freely  in  public 
on  that  day  of  the  two  visits. 

"How  could  you  think  that  Mme.  de  Restaud  bore  you  a 
grudge  for  mentioning  my  name?"  he  had  said  on  the  day 
following  that  scene  at  dinner.  *'  My  daughters  are  very  fond 
of  me ;  I  am  a  happy  father  ;  but  my  sons-in-law  have  be- 
haved badly  to  me,  and  rather  than  make  trouble  between  my 
darlings  and  their  husbands,  I  choose  to  see  my  daughters 
secretly.  Fathers  who  can  see  their  daughters  at  any  time 
have  no  idea  of  all  the  pleasure  that  this  mystery  gives  me ; 
I  cannot  always  see  mine  when  I  wish,  do  you  understand? 
So  when  it  is  fine  I  walk  out  in  the  Champs-Elysees,  after 
finding  out  from  their  waiting-maids  whether  my  daughters 
mean  to  go  out.  I  wait  near  the  entrance ;  my  heart  beats 
fast  when  the  carriages  begin  to  come  ;  I  admire  them  in  their 
dresses,  and  as  they  pass  they  give  me  a  little  smile,  and  it 
seems  that  everything  was  lighted  up  for  me  by  a  ray  of  bright 
sunlight.  I  wait,  for  they  always  go  back  the  same  way,  and 
then  I  see  them  again  ;  the  fresh  air  has  done  them  good  and 
brought  color  into  their  cheeks ;  all  about  me,  people  say, 
'  What  a  beautiful  woman  that  is  !  '  and  it  does  my  heart  good 
to  hear  them. 

"Are  they  not  my  own  flesh  and  blood?  I  love  the  very 
horses   that  draw  them ;  I  envy  the  little  lap-dog  on   their 


126  FATHER   GORIOT. 

knees.  Their  happiness  is  my  life.  Every  one  loves  after  his 
own  fashion,  and  mine  does  no  one  any  harm ;  why  should 
people  trouble  their  heads  about  me  ?  I  am  happy  in  my  own 
way.  Is  there  any  law  against  my  going  to  see  my  girls  in 
the  evening  when  they  are  going  out  to  a  ball  ?  And  what  a 
disappointment  it  is  when  I  get  there  too  late,  and  am  told 
that  '  madame  has  gone  out ! '  Once  I  waited  till  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  for  Nasie;  I  had  not  seen  her  for  two 
whole  days.  I  was  so  pleased  that  it  was  almost  too  much  for 
me  !  Please  do  not  speak  of  me  unless  it  is  to  say  how  good 
my  daughters  are  to  me.  They  are  always  wanting  to  heap 
presents  upon  me,  but  I  will  not  have  it.  '  Just  keep  your 
money,' I  tell  them.  'What  should  I  do  with  it?  I  want 
nothing.'  And  what  am  I,  sir,  after  all?  An  old  carcass, 
whose  soul  is  always  where  my  daughters  are.  When  you 
have  seen  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  tell  me  which  you  like  the 
most,"  said  the  old  man  after  a  moment's  pause,  while  Eugene 
put  the  last  touches  to  his  toilet.  The  student  was  about  to 
go  out  to  walk  in  the  Garden  of  the  Tuileries  until  the  hour 
when  he  could  venture  to  appear  in  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant's 
drawing-room. 

That  walk  was  a  turning-point  in  Eugene's  career.  Several 
women  noticed  him  ;  he  looked  so  handsome,  so  young,  and 
so  well  dressed.  This  almost  admiring  attention  gave  a  new 
turn  to  his  thoughts.  He  forgot  his  sisters  and  the  aunt  who 
had  robbed  herself  for  him  ;  he  no  longer  remembered  his 
own  virtuous  scruples.  He  had  seen  hovering  above  his  head 
the  fiend  so  easy  to  mistake  for  an  angel,  the  devil  with  rainbow 
wings,  who  scatters  rubies,  and  aims  his  golden  shafts  at  palace 
fronts,  who  invests  women  with  purple,  and  thrones  with  a 
glory  that  dazzles  the  eyes  of  fools  till  they  forget  the  simple 
origins  of  royal  dominion  ;  he  had  heard  the  rustle  of  that 
vanity  whose  tinsel  seems  to  us  to  be  the  symbol  of  power. 
However  cynical  Vautrin's  words  had  been,  they  had  made  an 
impression  on  his  mind,  as  the  sordid  features  of  the  old  crone 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  127 

who  whispers,  "  A  lover,  and  gold  in  torrents,  remain 
engraven  on  a  young  girl's  memory. 

Eugene  lounged  about  the  walks  till  it  was  nearly  five 
o'clock,  then  he  went  to  Mme.  de  Beauseant's,  and  received 
one  of  the  terrible  blows  against  which  young  hearts  are 
defenseless.  Hitherto  the  Vicomtesse  had  received  him  v/ith 
the  kindly  urbanity,  the  bland  grace  of  manner  that  is  the 
result  of  fine  breeding,  but  is  only  complete  when  it  comes 
from  the  heart. 

To-day  Mme.  de  Beauseant  bowed  constrainedly,  and  spoke 
curtly — 

"  M.  de  Rastignac,  I  cannot  possibly  see  you,  at  least  not 
at  this  moment.     I  am  engaged " 

An  observer,  and  Rastignac  instantly  became  an  observer, 
could  read  the  whole  history,  the  character  and  customs  of 
caste,  in  the  phrase,  in  the  tones  of  her  voice,  in  her  glance 
and  bearing.  He  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  iron  hand  beneath 
the  velvet  glove — the  personality,  the  egoism  beneath  the 
manner,  the  wood  beneath  the  varnish.  In  short,  he  heard 
that  unmistakable  I  the  King  that  issues  from  the  plumed 
canopy  of  the  throne,  and  finds  its  last  echo  under  the  crest 
of  the  simplest  gentleman. 

Eugene  had  trusted  too  implicitly  to  the  generosity  of  a 
woman  ;  he  could  not  believe  in  her  haughtiness.  Like  all 
the  unfortunate,  he  had  subscribed,  in  all  good  faith,  the  gen- 
erous compact  which  should  bind  the  benefactor  to  the  recip- 
ient, and  the  first  article  in  that  bond,  between  two  large- 
hearted  natures,  is  a  perfect  equality.  The  kindness  which 
knits  two  souls  together  is  as  rare,  as  divine,  and  as  little 
understood  as  the  passion  of  love,  for  both  love  and  kindness 
are  the  lavish  generosity  of  noble  natures.  Rastignac  was 
set  upon  going  to  the  Duchesse  de  Carigliano's  ball,  so  he 
meekly  swallowed  down  this  rebuff,  and  concealed  any  mani- 
festation of  his  disappointment. 

"Madame,"  he  faltered  out,  "I  would  not  have  come  to 


128  FATHER   GORIOT. 

trouble  you  about  a  trifling  matter  ;  be  so  kind  as  to  permit 
me  to  see  you  later,  I  can  wait." 

"Very  well,  come  and  dine  with  me,"  she  said,  a  little 
confused  by  the  harsh  way  in  which  she  had  spoken,  for  this 
lady  was  as  genuinely  kind-hearted  as  she  was  high-born. 

Eugene  was  touched  by  this  sudden  relenting,  but  none  the 
less  he  said  to  himself  as  he  went  away,  "  Crawl  in  the  dust, 
put  up  with  every  kind  of  treatment.  What  must  the  rest  of 
the  world  be  like  when  one  of  the  kindest  of  women  forgets 
all  her  promises  of  befriending  me  in  a  moment,  and  tosses 
me  aside  like  an  old  shoe  ?  So  it  is  every  one  for  himself? 
It  is  true  that  her  house  is  not  a  shop,  and  I  have  put  myself 
in  the  wrong  by  needing  her  help.  You  should  cut  your  way 
through  the  world  like  a  cannon-ball,  as  Vautrin  said." 

But  the  student's  bitter  thoughts  were  soon  dissipated  by 
the  pleasure  which  he  promised  himself  in  this  dinner  with 
the  Vicomtesse.  Fate  seemed  to  determine  that  the  smallest 
accidents  in  his  life  should  combine  to  urge  him  into  a  career, 
which  the  terrible  sphinx  of  the  Maison  Vauquer  had  described 
as  a  field  of  battle  where  you  must  either  slay  or  be  slain,  and 
cheat  to  avoid  being  cheated.  You  leave  your  conscience 
and  your  heart  at  the  barriers,  and  wear  a  mask  on  entering 
into  this  game  of  grim  earnest,  where,  as  in  ancient  Sparta, 
you  must  snatch  your  prize  without  being  detected  if  you 
would  deserve  the  crown. 

On  his  return  he  found  the  Vicomtesse  gracious  and  kindly, 
as  she  had  always  been  to  him.  They  went  together  to  the 
dining-room,  where  the  Vicomte  was  waiting  for  his  wife.  In 
the  time  of  the  Restoration  the  luxury  of  the  table  was  car- 
ried, as  is  well  known,  to  the  highest  degree,  and  M.  de 
Beaus6ant,  like  many  jaded  men  of  the  world,  had  few  plea- 
sures left  but  those  of  good-cheer  ;  in  this  matter,  in  fact,  he 
was  a  gourmand  of  the  schools  of  Louis  XVIII.  and  of  the 
Due  d'Escars,  and  luxury  was  supplemented  by  splendor. 
Eugene  dining  for  the  first  time  in  a  house  where  the  tradi- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  129 

tions  of  grandeur  had  descended  through  many  generations, 
had  never  seen  any  spectacle  like  this  that  at  this  time  met 
his  eyes. 

In  the  time  of  the  Empire,  balls  had  always  ended  with  a 
supper,  because  the  officers  who  took  part  in  them  must  be 
fortified  for  immediate  service,  and  even  in  Paris  might  be 
called  upon  to  leave  the  ballroom  for  the  battlefield.  This 
arrangement  had  gone  out  of  fashion  under  the  Monarchy, 
and  Eugene  had  so  far  only  been  asked  to  dances.  The  self- 
possession  which  pre-eminently  distinguished  him  in  later  life 
already  stood  him  in  good  stead,  and  he  did  not  betray  his 
amazement.  Yet  as  he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  finely 
wrought  silver-plate,  the  completeness  of  every  detail,  the 
sumptuous  dinner,  noiselessly  served,  it  was  difficult  for  such 
an  ardent  imagination  not  to  prefer  this  life  of  studied  and 
refined  luxury  to  the  hardships  of  the  life  which  he  had 
chosen  only  that  morning. 

His  thoughts  went  back  for  a  moment  to  the  lodging-house, 
and,  with  a  feeling  of  profound  loathing,  he  vowed  to  himself 
that  at  New  Year  he  would  go ;  prompted  at  least  as  much 
by  a  desire  to  live  among  cleaner  surroundings  as  by  a  wish 
to  shake  off  Vautrin,  whose  huge  hand  he  seemed  to  feel  on 
his  shoulder  at  that  moment.  When  you  consider  the  num- 
berless forms,  clamorous  or  mute,  that  corruption  takes  in 
Paris,  common-sense  begins  to  wonder  what  mental  aberra- 
tion prompted  the  state  to  establish  great  colleges  and  schools 
there,  and  assemble  young  men  in  the  capital ;  how  it  is  that 
pretty  women  are  respected,  or  that  the  gold  coin  displayed 
in  the  money-changer's  wooden  saucers  does  not  take  to  itself 
wings  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ;  and  when  you  come  to 
think  further,  how  comparatively  few  cases  of  crime  there  are, 
and  to  count  up  the  misdemeanors  committed  by  youth,  is 
there  not  a  certain  amount  of  respect  due  to  these  patient 
Tantaluses  who  wrestle  with  themselves  and  nearly  always 
come  off  victorious  ?  The  struggles  of  the  poor  student  in 
9 


130  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Paris,  if  skillfully  drawn,  would  furnish  a  most  dramatic  pic- 
ture of  modern  civilization. 

In  vain  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant  looked  at  Eugene  as  if  asking 
him  to  speak ;  the  student  was  tongue-tied  in  the  Vicomte's 
presence. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  me  to  the  Italiens  this  evening  ?  " 
the  Vicomtesse  asked  her  husband. 

"You  cannot  doubt  that  I  should  obey  you  with  pleasure," 
he  answered,  and  there  was  a  sarcastic  tinge  in  his  politeness 
which  Eugene  did  not  detect,  "  but  I  ought  to  go  to  meet 
some  one  at  the  Varietes." 

"  His  mistress,"  said  she  to  herself. 

"Then  is  not  Ajuda  coming  for  you  this  evening?"  in- 
quired the  Vicomte. 

"No,"  she  answered,  petulantly. 

"  Very  well,  then,  if  you  really  must  have  an  arm,  take 
that  of  M.  de  Rastignac." 

The  Vicomtesse  turned  to  Eugene  with  a  smile. 

"That  would  be  a  very  compromising  step  for  you,"  she 
said. 

"  '  A  Frenchman  loves  danger,  because  in  danger  there  is 
glory,'  to  quote  M.  de  Chateaubriand,"  said  Rastignac,  with 
a  bow. 

A  few  moments  later  he  was  sitting  beside  Mme.  de  Beau- 
s6ant  in  a  brougham,  that  whirled  them  through  the  streets  of 
Paris  to  a  fashionable  theatre.  It  seemed  to  him  that  some 
fairy  magic  had  suddenly  transported  him  into  a  box  facing 
the  stage.  All  the  lorgnettes  of  the  house  were  pointed  at 
him  as  he  entered,  and  at  the  Vicomtesse  in  her  charming 
toilet.     He  went  from  enchantment  to  enchantment. 

"You  must  talk  to  me,  you  know,"  said  Mme.  de  Beau- 
seant.  "  Ah !  look  !  There  is  Mme.  de  Nucingen  in  the 
third  box  from  ours.  Her  sister  and  M.  de  Trailles  are  on 
the  other  side," 

The  Vicomtesse  glanced  as  she  spoke  at  the  box  where 


FATHER    GORIOT.  131 

Mile,  de  Rocliefide  should  have  been ;  M.  d'Ajuda  was  not 
there,  and  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  face  lighted  up  in  a  marvel- 
ous way. 

"  She  is  charming,"  said  Eugene,  after  looking  at  Mme.  de 
Nucingen. 

"  She  has  white  eyelashes." 

"Yes,  but  she  has  such  a  pretty  slender  figure  !  " 

"  Her  hands  are  large." 

"  Such  beautiful  eyes  !  *' 

**  Her  face  is  long." 

"Yes,  but  length  gives  distinction." 

"  It  is  lucky  for  her  that  she  has  some  distinction  in  her 
face.  Just  see  how  she  fidgets  with  her  opera-glass  !  The 
Goriot  blood  shows  itself  in  every  movement,"  said  the 
Vicomtesse,  much  to  Eugene's  astonishment. 

Indeed,  Mme.  de  Beauseant  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  mak- 
ing a  survey  of  the  house,  and  to  be  unconscious  of  Mme. 
Nucingen's  existence  ;  but  no  movement  made  by  the  latter 
was  lost  upon  the  Vicomtesse.  The  house  was  full  of  the 
loveliest  women  in  Paris,  so  that  Delphine  de  Nucingen  was 
not  a  little  flattered  to  receive  the  undivided  attention  of 
Mme.  de  Beauseant's  young,  handsome,  and  well-dressed 
cousin,  who  seemed  to  have  no  eyes  for  any  one  else. 

"  If  you  look  at  her  so  persistently,  you  will  make  people 
talk,  M.  de  Rastignac.  You  will  never  succeed  if  you  fling 
yourself  at  any  one's  head  like  that." 

"My  dear  cousin,"  said  Eugene,  "you  have  protected  me 
indeed  so  far,  and  now  if  you  would  complete  your  work,  I 
only  ask  of  you  a  favor  which  will  cost  you  but  little,  and  be 
of  very  great  service  to  me.     I  have  lost  my  heart." 

"Already!  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  to  that  woman  !  " 

"  How  could  I  aspire  to  find  any  one  else  to  listen  to  me  ?  " 
he  asked,  with  a  keen  glance  at  his  cousin.     "  Her  grace  the 


132  FATHER  GO  RIOT. 

Duchesse  de  Carigliano  is  a  friend  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berri," 
he  went  on,  after  a -pause ;  **  you  are  sure  to  see  her,  will  you 
be  so  kind  as  to  present  me  to  her,  and  to  take  me  with  you 
to  her  ball  on  Monday?  I  shall  meet  Mme.  de  Nucingen 
there,  and  enter  upon  my  first  skirmish." 

"Willingly,"  she  said.  "If  you  have  a  liking  for  her 
already,  your  affairs  of  the  heart  are  likely  to  prosper.  That  is 
de  Marsay  over  there  in  the  Princesse  Galathionne's  box. 
Mme.  de  Nucingen  is  racked  with  jealousy.  There  is  no 
better  time  for  approaching  a  woman,  especially  if  she  hap- 
pens to  be  a  banker's  wife.  All  those  ladies  of  the  Chausde- 
d'Antin  love  revenge." 

**  Then  what  would  you  do  yourself  in  such  a  case  ?  ** 

"I  should  suffer  in  silence." 

At  this  point  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda  appeared  in  Mme.  de 
Beaus^ant's  box. 

'*  I  have  made  a  muddle  of  my  affairs  to  come  to  you,"  he 
said,  **  and  I  am  telling  you  about  it,  so  that  it  may  not  be  a 
sacrifice." 

Eugene  saw  the  glow  of  joy  on  the  Vicomtesse's  face,  and 
knew  that  this  was  love,  and  learned  the  difference  between 
love  and  the  affectations  of  Parisian  coquetry.  He  admired 
his  cousin,  grew  mute,  and  yielded  his  place  to  M.  d'Ajuda 
with  a  sigh. 

"  How  noble,  how  sublime  a  woman  is  when  she  loves  like 
that !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  And  he  could  forsake  her  for  a 
doll !     Oh  !  how  could  any  one  forsake  her  ?  " 

There  was  a  boy's  passionate  indignation  in  his  heart.  He 
could  have  flung  himself  at  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  feet ;  he 
longed  for  the  power  of  the  devil  if  he  could  snatch  her 
away  and  hide  her  in  his  heart,  as  an  eagle  snatches  up  some 
white  yeanling  from  the  plains  and  bears  it  to  his  eyrie.  It 
was  humiliating  to  him  to  think  that  in  all  this  gallery  of  fair 
pictures  he  had  not  one  picture  of  his  own.  **  To  have  a 
mistress  and  an  almost  royal  position  is  a  sign  of  power,"  he 


FATHER    GO  J?  TOT.  133 

said  to  himself.  And  he  looked  at  Mme.  de  Nucingen  as  a 
man  measures  another  who  has  insulted  him. 

The  Vicomtesse  turned  to  him,  and  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  thanked  him  a  thousand  times  for  his  discretion.  The 
first  act  came  to  an  end  just  then. 

**  Do  you  know  Mme.  de  Nucingen  well  enough  to  present 
M.  de  Rastignac  to  her?"  she  asked  of  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda. 

"  She  will  be  delighted,"  said  the  Marquis.  The  handsome 
Portuguese  rose  as  he  spoke  and  took  the  student's  arm, 
and  in  another  moment  Eugene  found  himself  in  Mme.  de 
Nucingen's  box. 

"Madame,"  said  the  Marquis,  "  I  have  the  honor  of  pre- 
senting to  you  the  Chevalier  Eugene  de  Rastignac  ;  he  is  a 
cousin  of  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant's.  You  have  made  so  deep  an 
impression  upon  him,  that  I  thought  I  would  fill  up  the 
measure  of  his  happiness  by  bringing  him  nearer  to  his 
divinity." 

Words  spoken  half-jestingly  to  cover  their  somewhat  dis- 
respectful import ;  but  such  an  implication,  if  carefully 
disguised,  never  gives  offense  to  a  woman.  Mme.  de  Nucin- 
gen smiled,  and  offered  Eugene  the  place  which  her  husband 
had  just  left. 

"I  do  not  venture  to  suggest  that  you  should  stay  with 
me,  monsieur,"  she  said.  "Those  who  are  so  fortunate  as 
to  be  in  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant's  company  seldom  desire  to  soon 
leave  it." 

"Madame,"  Eugene  said,  lowering  his  voice,  "I  think 
that  to  please  my  cousin  I  should  remain  with  you.  Before 
my  Lord  Marquis  came  we  were  speaking  of  you  and  of  your 
exceedingly  distinguished  appearance,"  he  added  aloud. 

M.  d'Ajuda  turned  and  left  them. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  stay  with  me,  monsieur?"  asked 
the  Baroness.  "  Then  we  shall  make  each  other's  acquaint- 
ance. Mme.  de  Restaud  told  me  about  you,  and  has  made 
me  anxious  to  meet  you." 


134  FATHER   GORIOT. 

"  She  must  be  very  insincere,  then,  for  she  has  shut  her 
door  on  me." 

"What?" 

"  Madame,  I  will  tell  you  honestly  the  reason  why ;  but  I 
must  crave  your  indulgence  before  confiding  such  a  secret  to 
you.  I  am  your  father's  neighbor  ;  I  had  no  idea  that  Mme. 
de  Restaud  was  his  daughter.  I  was  rash  enough  to  mention 
his  name ;  I  meant  no  harm,  but  I  annoyed  your  sister  and 
her  husband  very  much.  You  cannot  think  how  severely  the 
Duchesse  de  Langeais  and  my  cousin  blamed  this  apostasy  on 
a  daughter's  part,  as  a  piece  of  bad  taste.  I  told  them  all 
about  it,  and  they  both  burst  out  laughing.  Then  Mme.  de 
Beauseant  made  some  comparison  between  you  and  your  sister, 
speaking  in  high  terms  of  you,  and  saying  how  very  fond  you 
were  of  my  neighbor,  M.  Goriot.  And,  indeed,  how  could 
you  help  loving  him  ?  He  adores  you  so  passionately  that  I 
am  jealous  already.  We  talked  about  you  this  morning  for 
two  hours.  So  this  evening  I  was  quite  full  of  all  that  your 
father  had  told  me,  and  while  I  was  dining  with  my  cousin  I 
said  that  you  could  not  be  as  beautiful  as  affectionate.  Mme. 
de  Beauseant  meant  to  gratify  such  warm  admiration,  I  think, 
when  she  brought  me  here,  telling  me,  in  her  gracious  way, 
that  I  should  see  you." 

"Then,  even  now,  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude,  mon- 
sieur," said  the  banker's  wife.  "  We  shall  be  quite  old  friends 
in  a  little  while." 

"  Although  a  friendship  with  you  could  only  be  like  an  ordi- 
nary friendship,"  said  Rastignac  j  **  I  should  ever  wish  to  be 
your  friend." 

Such  stereotyped  phrases  as  these,  in  the  mouths  of  begin- 
ners, possess  an  unfailing  charm  for  women,  and  are  insipid 
only  when  read  coldly  ;  for  a  young  man's  tone,  glance,  and 
attitude  give  a  surpassing  eloquence  to  the  banal  phrases. 
Mme.  de  Nucingen  thought  that  Rastignac  was  adorable. 
Then,   woman-like,    being  at   a   loss   how  to   reply   to   the 


FATHER    GORIOT.  135 

Student's  outspoken  admiration,  she  answered  a  previous  re- 
mark. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  wrong  of  my  sister  to  treat  our  poor  father 
as  she  does,"  she  said  ;  "he  has  been  a  providence  to  us.  It 
was  not  until  M.  de  Nucingen  positively  ordered  me  only  to 
receive  him  in  the  mornings  that  I  yielded  the  point.  But  I 
have  been  unhappy  about  it  for  a  long  while ;  I  have  shed 
many  tears  over  it.  This  violence  to  my  feelings,  with  my 
husband's  brutal  treatment,  have  been  the  two  causes  of  my 
unhappy  married  life.  There  is  certainly  no  woman  in  Paris 
whose  lot  seems  more  enviable  than  mine,  and  yet,  in 
reality,  there  is  not  one  so  much  to  be  pitied.  You  will  think 
I  must  be  out  of  my  senses  to  talk  to  you  like  this;  but  you 
know  my  father,  and  I  cannot  very  well  regard  you  as  a 
stranger." 

"You  will  find  no  one,"  said  Eugene,  "who  ksngs  as 
eagerly  as  I  do  to  be  yours.  What  do  all  women  seek? 
Happiness."  (He  answered  his  own  question  in  low,  vibrating 
tones.)  "And  if  happiness  for  a  woman  means  that  she  is  to 
be  loved  and  adored,  to  have  a  friend  to  whom  she  can  pour 
out  her  wishes,  her  fancies,  her  sorrows  and  joys;  to  whom  she 
can  lay  bare  her  heart  and  soul,  and  all  her  fair  defects  and  her 
gracious  virtues,  without  fear  of  a  betrayal  ;  believe  me,  the 
devotion  and  the  warmth  that  never  fail  can  only  be  found 
in  the  heart  of  a  young  man  who,  at  a  bare  sign  from  you, 
would  go  to  his  death,  who  neither  knows  nor  cares  to  know 
anything  as  yet  of  the  world,  because  you  will  be  all  the 
world  to  him.  I  myself,  you  see  (you  will  laugh  at  my 
simplicity),  have  just  come  from  a  remote  country  district ;  I 
am  quite  new  to  this  world  of  Paris ;  I  have  only  known  true 
and  loving  hearts ;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  here  I  should 
find  no  love.  Then  I  chanced  to  meet  my  cousin,  and  to 
see  my  cousin's  heart  from  very  near  ;  I  have  divined  the  in- 
exhaustible treasures  of  passion,  and,  like  Cherubino,  I  am 
the    lover  of   all   women,   until  the  day  comes  when  I  find 


136  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

the  woman  to  whom  I  may  devote  myself.  As  soon  as  I 
saw  you,  as  soon  as  I  came  into  the  theatre  this  evening, 
I  felt  myself  borne  towards  you  as  if  by  the  current  of  a 
stream.  I  had  so  often  thought  of  you  already,  but  I  had 
never  dreamed  that  you  would  be  so  beautiful !  Mme.  de 
Beaus6ant  told  me  that  I  must  not  look  so  much  at  you. 
She   does   not   know  the  charm  of  your  red  lips,   your  fair 

face,  nor  see  how  soft  your  eyes  are I  also  am  beginning 

to  talk  nonsense;  but  let  me  talk." 

Nothing  pleases  women  better  than  to  listen  to  such  whis- 
pered words  as  these ;  the  most  puritanical  among  them 
listens  even  when  she  ought  not  to  reply  to  them  ;  and  Ras- 
tignac,  having  once  begun,  continued  to  pour  out  his  story, 
dropping  his  voice,  that  she  might  lean  and  listen  ;  and  Mme. 
de  Nucingen,  smiling,  glanced  from  time  to  lime  at  de  Marsay, 
who  still  sat  in  the  Princesse  Galathionne's  box. 

Rastignac  did  not  leave  Mme.  de  Nucingen  till  her  husband 
came  to  take  her  home. 

"  Madame,"  Eugene  said,  "  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of 
calling  upon  you  before  the  Duchesse  de  Carigliano's  ball." 

"If  matame  infites  you  to  come,"  said  the  Baron,  a  thick- 
set Alsatian,  with  indications  of  a  sinister  cunning  in  his 
full-moon  countenance,  "  you  are  quide  sure  of  being  well 
receifed." 

**  My  affairs  seem  to  be  in  a  promising  way,"  said  Eugene 
to  himself.  **  Can  you  love  me?"  I  asked  her,  and  she  did 
not  resent  it.  The  bit  is  in  the  horse's  mouth,  and  I  have 
only  to  mount  and  ride  ;  "  and  with  that  he  went  to  pay  his 
respects  to  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant,  who  was  leaving  the  theatre 
on  d'Ajuda's  arm. 

The  student  did  not  know  that  the  Baroness'  thoughts  had 
been  wandering;  that  she  was  even  then  expecting  a  letter 
from  de  Marsay,  one  of  those  letters  that  bring  about  a  rup- 
ture that  rends  the  soul ;  so,  happy  in  his  delusion,  Eugene 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  137 

went  with  the  Vicomtesse  to  the  peristyle,  where  people  were 
waiting  till  their  carriages  were  announced. 

"  That  cousin  of  yours  is  hardly  recognizable  for  the  same 
man,"  said  the  Portuguese  laughingly  to  the  Vicomtesse, 
when  Eugene  had  taken  leave  of  them.  "  He  will  break  the 
bank.  He  is  as  supple  as  an  eel ;  he  will  go  a  long  way,  of 
that  I  am  sure.  Who  else  could  have  picked  out  a  woman 
for  him,  as  you  did,  just  when  she  needed  consolation?" 

"  But  it  is  not  certain  that  she  does  not  still  love  the  faith- 
less lover,"  said  Mme.  de  Beauseant. 

The  student  meanwhile  walked  back  from  the  Theatre- 
Italien  to  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  making  the  most 
delightful  plans  as  he  went.  He  had  noticed  how  closely 
Mme.  de  Restaud  had  scrutinized  him  when  he  appeared  in 
the  Vicomtesse's  box,  and  again  when  he  sat  beside  Mme.  de 
Nucingen,  and  inferred  that  the  Countess'  doors  would  not 
be  closed  in  future.  Four  important  houses  were  now  open 
to  him — for  he  meant  to  stand  well  with  the  Duchesse  ;  he 
had  four  supporters  in  the  inmost  circle  of  society  in  Paris. 
Even  now  it  was  clear  to  him  that,  once  involved  in  this  in- 
tricate social  machinery,  he  must  attach  himself  to  a  spoke  of 
the  wheel  that  was  to  turn  and  raise  his  fortunes  ;  he  would 
not  examine  himself  too  curiously  as  to  the  methods,  but  he 
was  certain  of  the  end,  and  conscious  of  the  power  to  gain 
and  keep  his  hold. 

"  If  Mme.  de  Nucingen  takes  an  interest  in  me,  I  will  teach 
her  how  to  manage  her  husband.  That  husband  of  hers  is  a 
great  speculator  \  he  might  put  me  in  the  way  of  making  a 
fortune  by  a  single  stroke." 

He  did  not  say  this  bluntly  in  so  many  words ;  as  yet,  in- 
deed, he  was  not  sufficient  of  a  diplomatist  to  sum  up  a  situa- 
tion, to  see  its  possibilities  at  a  glance,  and  calculate  the 
chances  in  his  favor.  These  were  nothing  but  hazy  ideas  that 
floated  over  his  mental  horizon  ;  they  were  less  cynical  than 
Vautrin's  notions  ;  but  if  they  had  been  tried  in  the  crucible 


138  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

of  conscience,  no  very  pure  result  would  have  issued  from 
the  test.  It  is  by  a  succession  of  such  like  transactions  that 
men  sink  at  last  to  the  level  of  the  relaxed  morality  of  this 
epoch,  when  there  have  never  been  so  few  of  those  who  square 
their  courses  with  their  theories,  so  few  of  those  noble  charac- 
ters who  do  not  yield  to  temptation,  for  whom  the  slightest 
deviation  from  the  line  of  rectitude  is  a  crime.  To  these  mag- 
nificent types  of  uncompromising  right  we  owe  two  master- 
pieces— the  Alceste  of  Moliere,  and,  in  our  own  day,  the 
characters  of  Jeanie  Deans  and  her  father  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
novel.  Perhaps  a  work  which  should  chronicle  the  opposite 
course,  which  should  trace  out  all  the  devious  courses  through 
which  a  man  of  the  world,  a  man  of  ambitions,  drags  his  con- 
science, just  steering  clear  of  crime  that  he  may  gain  his  end 
and  yet  save  appearances,  such  a  chronicle  would  be  no  less 
edifying  and  no  less  dramatic. 

Rastignac  went  home.  He  was  fascinated  by  Mme.  de 
Nucingen  ;  he  seemed  to  see  her  before  him,  slender  and 
graceful  as  a  swallow.  He  recalled  the  intoxicating  sweetness 
of  her  eyes,  her  fair  hair,  the  delicate  silken  tissue  of  the  skin, 
beneath  which  it  almost  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  see  the 
blood  coursing ;  the  tones  of  her  voice  still  exerted  a  spell 
over  him ;  he  had  forgotten  nothing ;  his  walk  perhaps  heated 
his  imagination  by  sending  a  glow  of  warmth  through  his 
veins.     He  knocked  unceremoniously  at  Goriot's  door. 

"  I  have  seen  Mme.  Delphine,  neighbor,"  said  he. 

"Where?" 

«*At  the  Italiens." 

"Did  she  enjoy  it? Just  come  inside,"  and  the  old 

man  left  his  bed,  unlocked  the  door,  and  promptly  returned 
again. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Eugene  had  been  in  Father  Goriot's 
room,  and  he  could  not  control  his  feeling  of  amazement  at 
the  contrast  between  the  den  in  which  the  father  lived  and 
the  costume  of  the  daughter  whom  he  had  just  beheld.     The 


FATHER   GORIOT.  139 

window  was  curtainless,  the  walls  were  damp,  in  places  the 
varnished  wall-paper  had  come  away  and  gave  glimpses  of  the 
grimy  yellow  plaster  beneath.  The  wretched  bed  on  which 
the  old  man  lay  boasted  but  one  thin  blanket,  and  a  wadded 
quilt  made  out  of  large  pieces  of  Mme,  Vauquer's  old  dresses. 
The  floor  was  damp  and  gritty.  Opposite  the  window  stood 
a  chest  of  drawers  made  of  rosewood,  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
kind  with  a  curving  front  and  brass  handles,  sl^aped  like  rings 
of  twisted  vine  stems  covered  with  flowers  and  leaves.  On  a 
venerable  piece  of  furniture  with  a  wooden  shelf  stood  an  ewer 
and  basin  and  shaving  apparatus.  A  pair  of  shoes  stood  in 
one  corner  ;  a  night-table  by  the  bed  had  neither  a  door  nor 
marble  slab.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  a  fire  in  the  empty 
grate ;  the  square  walnut  table  with  the  cross-bar  against 
which  Father  Goriot  had  crushed  and  twisted  his  posset-dish 
stood  near  the  hearth.  The  old  man's  hat  was  lying  on  a 
broken-down  bureau.  An  arm-chair  stuffed  with  straw  and 
a  couple  of  chairs  completed  the  list  of  ramshackle  furniture. 
From  the  tester  of  the  bed,  tied  to  the  ceiling  by  a  piece  of 
rag,  hung  a  strip  of  some  cheap  material  in  large  red  and 
black  checks.  No  poor  drudge  in  a  garret  could  be  worse 
lodged  than  Father  Goriot  in  Mme.  Vauquer's  lodging-house. 
The  mere  sight  of  the  room  sent  a  chill  through  you  and  a 
sense  of  oppression  ;  it  was  like  the  worst  cell  in  a  prison. 
Luckily,  Goriot  could  not  see  the  effect  that  his  surroundings 
produced  on  Eugene  as  the  latter  deposited  his  candle  on  the 
night-table.  The  old  man  turned  round,  keeping  the  bed- 
clothes huddled  up  to  his  chin. 

"Well,"  he  said,  *'  and  which  do  you  like  the  best,  Mme. 
de  Restaud  or  Mme.  de  Nucingen  ?" 

"I  like  Mme.  Delphine  the  best,"  said  the  law  student, 
"  because  she  loves  you  the  best." 

At  the  words  so  heartily  spoken  the  old  man's  hand  slipped 
out  from  under  the  bedclothes  and  eagerly  grasped  that  of 
Eugdne. 


140  FATHER   GQRIOT. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  he  said,  gratefully.  "Then 
what  did  she  say  about  me  ?  " 

The  student  repeated  the  Baroness'  remarks  with  some  em- 
bellishments of  his  own,  the  old  man  listening  the  while  as 
though  he  heard  a  voice  from  heaven. 

"  Dear  child  !  "  he  said.  "  Yes,  yes,  she  is  very  fond  of 
me.  But  you  must  not  believe  all  that  she  tells  you  about 
Anastasie.  The  two  sisters  are  jealous  of  each  other,  you  see, 
another  proof  of  their  affection.  Mme.  de  Restaud  is  very 
fond  of  me  too.  I  know  she  is.  A  father  sees  his  children 
as  God  sees  all  of  us ;  he  looks  into  the  very  depths  of  their 
hearts  ;  he  knows  their  intentions ;  and  both  of  them  are  so 
loving.  Oh  !  if  I  only  had  good  sons-in-law,  I  should  be  too 
happy,  and  I  dare  say  there  is  no  perfect  happiness  here  below. 
If  I  might  live  with  them — simply  hear  their  voices,  know 
that  they  are  there,  see  them  go  and  come  as  I  used  to  do  at 
home  when  they  were  still  with  me ;  why,  my  heart  bounds  at 
the  thought Were  they  nicely  dressed  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Eugene.  "But,  M.  Goriot,  how  is  it  that 
your  daughters  have  such  fine  houses,  while  you  live  in  such  a 
den  as  this?" 

"Dear  me,  why  should  I  want  anything  better?"  he  re- 
plied, with  seeming  carelessness.  "  I  can't  quite  explain  to 
you  how  it  is ;  I  am  not  used  to  stringing  words  together 
properly,  but  it  all  lies  there "  he  said,  tapping  his  heart. 

"  My  real  life  is  in  my  two  girls,  you  see ;  and  so  long  as 
they  are  happy  and  smartly  dressed,  and  have  soft  carpets 
under  their  feet,  what  does  it  matter  what  clothes  I  wear  or 
where  I  lie  down  of  a  night  ?  I  shall  never  feel  cold  so  long 
as  they  are  warm ;  I  shall  never  feel  dull  if  they  are  laughing. 
I  have  no  troubles  but  theirs.  When  you,  too,  are  a  father, 
and  you  hear  your  children's  little  voices,  you  will  say  to 
yourself,  'That  has  all  come  from  me.'  You  will  feel  that 
those  little  ones  are  akin  to  every  drop  in  your  veins,  that  they 
are  the  very  flower  of  your  life  (and  what  else  are  they?); 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  141 

you  will  cleave  so  closely  to  them  that  you  seem  to  feel  every 
movement  that  they  make.  Everywhere  I  hear  their  voices 
sounding  in  my  ears.  If  they  are  sad,  the  look  in  their  eyes 
freezes  my  blood.  Some  day  you  will  find  out  that  there  is 
far  more  happiness  in  another's  happiness  than  in  your  own. 
It  is  something  that  I  cannot  explain,  something  within  that 
sends  a  glow  of  warmth  all  through  you.  In  short,  I  live  my 
life  three  times  over.  Shall  I  tell  you  something  funny? 
Well,  then,  since  I  have  been  a  father,  I  have  come  to  under- 
stand God.  He  is  everywhere  in  the  world,  because  the 
whole  world  comes  from  Him.  And  it  is  just  the  same  witli 
my  children,  monsieur.  Only,  I  love  my  daughters  better 
than  God  loves  the  world,  for  the  world  is  not  so  beautiful  as 
God  Himself  is,  but  my  children  are  more  beautiful  than  I 
am.  Their  lives  are  so  bound  up  with  mine  that  I  felt  some- 
how that  you  would  see  them  this  evening  !  Great  heaven  ! 
If  any  man  would  make  my  little  Delphine  as  happy  as  a  wife 
is  when  she  is  loved,  I  would  black  his  boots  and  run  on  his 
errands.  That  miserable  M.  de  Marsay  is  a  cur;  I  know  all 
about  him  from  her  maid.  A  longing  to  wring  his  neck  comes 
over  me  now  and  then.  He  does  not  love  her  !  does  not  love 
a  pearl  of  a  woman,  with  a  voice  like  a  nightingale  and 
shaped  like  a  model.  Where  can  her  eyes  have  been  when 
she  married  that  great  lump  of  an  Alsatian  ?  They  ought 
both  of  them  to  have  married  young  men,  good-looking  and 
good-tempered — but,  after  all,  they  had  their  own  way." 

Father  Goriot  was  sublime.  Eugene  had  never  yet  seen  his 
face  light  up  as  it  did  now  with  the  passionate  fervor  of  a 
father's  love.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  strong  feeling  has 
a  very  subtle  and  pervasive  power ;  the  roughest  nature,  in  the 
endeavor  to  express  a  deep  and  sincere  affection,  communi- 
cates to  others  the  influence  that  has  put  resonance  into  the 
voice,  and  eloquence  into  every  gesture,  wrought  a  change  in 
the  very  features  of  the  speaker ;  for  under  the  inspiration  of 
passion    the   stupidest   human   being   attains  to  the   highest 


142  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

eloquence  of  ideas,  if  not  of  language,  and  seems  to  move  in 
some  sphere  of  light.  In  the  old  man's  tones  and  gesture 
there  was  something  just  then  of  tlie  same  spell  that  a  great 
actor  exerts  over  his  audience.  But  does  not  the  poet  in  us 
find  expression  in  our  affections  ? 

"Well,"  said  Eugene,  "perhaps  you  will  not  be  sorry  to 
hear  that  she  is  pretty  sure  to  break  with  de  Marsay  before 
long.  That  sprig  of  fashion  has  left  her  for  the  Princesse 
Galathionne.  For  my  own  part,  I  fell  in  love  with  Mme. 
Delphine  this  evening." 

"  Stuff!  "  said  Father  Goriot. 

"  I  did,  indeed ;  and  she  did  not  regard  me  with  aversion. 
For  a  whole  hour  we  talked  of  love,  and  I  am  to  go  to  call  on 
her  on  Saturday,  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Oh  !  how  I  should  love  you,  if  she  should  like  you.  You 
are  kind-hearted  ;  you  would  never  make  her  miserable.  If 
you  were  to  forsake  her,  I  would  cut  your  throat  at  once.  A 
woman  does  not  love  twice,  you  see  !  Good  heavens  !  what 
nonsense  I  am  talking,  M.  Eugene  !  It  is  cold ;  you  ought 
not  to  stay  here.  Mon  Dieu  !  so  you  have  heard  her  speak  ? 
What  message  did  she  give  you  for  me  ?  ' ' 

"  None  at  all,"  said  Eugene  to  himself;  aloud  he  answered, 
"  She  told  me  to  tell  you  that  your  daughter  sends  you  a  good 
kiss." 

"  Good-night,  neighbor  !  Sleep  well,  and  pleasant  dreams 
to  you  !  I  have  mine  already  made  for  me  by  that  message 
from  her.  May  God  grant  you  all  your  desires  !  You  have 
come  in  like  a  good  angel  on  me  to-night,  and  brought  with 
you  the  air  that  my  daughter  breathes." 

"  Poor  old  fellow  !  "  said  Eugene  as  he  lay  down.  "  It  is 
enough  to  melt  a  heart  of  stone.  His  daughter  no  more 
thought  of  him  than  of  the  Grand  Turk." 

Ever  after  this  conference  Goriot  looked  upon  his  neighbor 
as  a  friend,  a  confidant  such  as  he  had  never  hoped  to  find ; 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  148 

and  there  was  established  between  the  two  the  only  relation- 
ship that  could  attach  this  old  man  to  another  man.  The 
passions  never  miscalculate.  Father  Goriot  felt  that  this 
friendship  brought  him  closer  to  his  daughter  Delphine ;  he 
thought  that  he  should  find  a  warmer  welcome  for  himself 
if  the  Baroness  should  care  for  Eugene.  Moreover,  he  had 
confided  one  of  his  troubles  to  the  younger  man.  Mme. 
de  Nucingen,  for  whose  happiness  he  prayed  a  thousand  times 
daily,  had  never  known  the  joys  of  love.  Eugene  was  cer- 
tainly (to  make  use  of  his  own  expression)  one  of  the  nicest 
young  men  that  he  had  ever  seen,  and  some  prophetic, 
instinct  seemed  to  tell  him  that  Eugdne  was  to  give  her  the 
happiness  which  had  not  been  hers.  These  were  the  begin- 
nings of  a  friendship  that  grew  up  between  the  old  man  and 
his  neighbor  ;  but  for  this  friendship  the  catastrophe  of  the 
drama  must  have  remained  a  mystery. 

The  affection  with  which  Father  Goriot  regarded  Eugene, 
by  whom  he  seated  himself  at  breakfast,  the  change  in 
Goriot's  face,  which,  as  a  rule,  looked  as  expressionless  as  a 
plaster  cast,  and  a  few  words  that  passed  between  the  two, 
surprised  the  other  lodgers.  Vautrin,  who  saw  Eugene  for 
the  first  time  since  their  interview,  seemed  as  if  he  would 
fain  read  the  student's  very  soul.  During  the  night  Eugene 
had  had  some  time  in  which  to  scan  the  vast  field  that  lay 
before  him  ;  and  now,  as  he  remembered  yesterday's  proposal, 
the  thought  of  Mile.  Taillefer's  dowry  came,  of  course,  to  his 
mind,  and  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  Victorine  as  the 
most  exemplary  youth  may  think  of  an  heiress.  It  chanced 
that  their  eyes  met.  The  poor  girl  did  not  fail  to  see  that 
Eugene  looked  very  handsome  in  his  new  clothes.  So  much 
was  said  in  the  glance  thus  exchanged,  that  Eugdne  could 
not  doubt  but  that  he  was  associated  in  her  mind  with  the 
vague  hopes  that  lie  dormant  in  a  girl's  heart  and  gather  round 
the  first  attractive  new-comer.  "  Eight  hundred  thousand 
francs !  "  a  voice  cried  in  his  ears,   but  suddenly  he  took 


144  FATHER   GO  RIOT 

refuge  in  the  memories  of  yesterday  evening,  thinking  that  his 
extemporized  passion  for  Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  a  talisman 
that  would  preserve  him  from  this  temptation. 

"  They  gave  Rossini's  'Barber  of  Seville'  at  the  Italiens 
yesterday  evening,"  he  remarked.  "I  never  heard  such  de- 
licious music.  Good  gracious  !  how  lucky  people  are  to  have 
a  box  at  the  Italiens  !  " 

Father  Goriot  drank  in  every  word  that  Eugdne  let  fall, 
and  watched  him  as  a  dog  watches  his  master's  slightest  move- 
ment. 

"You  men  are  like  fighting-cocks,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer; 
"  you  do  what  you  like." 

"  How  did  you  get  back?  "  inquired  Vautrin. 

"I  walked,"  answered  Eugene. 

"  For  ray  own  part,"  remarked  the  tempter,  **  I  do  not  care 
about  doing  things  by  halves.  If  I  want  to  enjoy  myself  that 
way,  I  should  prefer  to  go  in  my  carriage,  sit  in  my  own  box, 
and  do  the  thing  comfortably.  Everything  or  nothing ;  that 
is  my  motto." 

"And  a  good  one  too,"  commented  Mme.  Vauquer. 

"Perhaps  you  will  see  Mme.  de  Nucingen  to-day,"  said 
Eugdne,  addressing  Goriot  in  an  undertone.  "She  will  wel- 
come you  with  open  arms,  I  am  sure ;  she  would  want  to  ask 
you  for  all  sorts  of  little  details  about  me.  I  have  found  out 
that  she  would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  be  known  by  my 
cousin  Mme.  de  Beauseant ;  don't  forget  to  tell  her  that  I  love 
her  too  well  not  to  think  of  trying  to  arrange  this." 

Rastignac  went  at  once  to  the  Ecole  de  droit.  He  had  no 
mind  to  stay  a  moment  longer  than  was  necessary  in  that 
odious  house.  He  wasted  his  time  that  day;  he  had  fallen  a 
victim  to  that  fever  of  the  brain  that  accompanies  the  too 
vivid  hopes  of  youth.  Vautrin's  arguments  had  set  him 
meditating  on  social  life,  and  he  was  deep  in  these  reflections 
when  he  happened  on  his  friend  Bianchon  in  the  Jardin  du 
Luxembourg. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  145 

"  What  makes  you  look  so  solemn  ?  "  said  the  medical  stu- 
dent, putting  an  arm  through  Eugene's  as  they  went  towards 
the  Palais. 

"  I  am  tormented  by  temptations." 

"  What  kind?     There  is  a  cure  for  temptation." 

"What?" 

"Yielding  to  it." 

"  You  laugh,  but  you  don't  know  what  it  is  all  about.  Have 
you  read  Rousseau  ? ' ' 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  remember  that  he  asks  the  reader  somewhere  what 
he  would  do  if  he  could  make  a  fortune  by  killing  an  old 
mandarin  somewhere  in  China  by  mere  force  of  wishing  it, 
and  without  stirring  from  Paris?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  then?" 

"  Pshaw  !     I  am  at  my  thirty-third  mandarin." 

"  Seriously,  though.  Look  here,  suppose  you  were  sure 
that  you  could  do  it,  and  had  only  to  give  a  nod.  Would  you 
doit?" 

"Is  he  well  stricken  in  years,  this  mandarin  of  yours? 
Pshaw  !  after  all,  young  or  old,  paralytic,  or  well  and  sound, 
my  word  for  it Well,  then.     Hang  it,  no  !  " 

"  You  are  a  good  fellow,  Bianchon.  But  suppose  you  loved 
a  woman  well  enough  to  lose  your  soul  in  hell  for  her,  and 
that  she  wanted  money,  lots  of  money  for  dresses  and  a  car- 
riage, and  all  her  whims,  in  fact?  " 

"  Why,  here  you  are  taking  away  my  reason,  and  want  me 
to  reason  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  Bianchon,  I  am  mad  ;  bring  me  to  my  senses. 
I  have  two  sisters  as  beautiful  and  innocent  as  angels,  and  I 
want  them  to  be  happy.  How  am  I  to  find  two  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  piece  for  them  in  the  next  five  years  ?  Now 
and  then  in  life,  you  see,  you  must  play  for  heavy  stakes,  and 
it  is  no  use  wasting  your  luck  on  low  play." 
10 


146  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"But  you  are  only  stating  the  problem  that  lies  before 
every  one  at  the  outset  of  his  life,  and  you  want  to  cut  the 
Gordian  knot  with  a  sword.  If  that  is  the  way  of  it,  dear 
boy,  you  must  be  an  Alexander,  or  to  the  hulks  you  go.  For 
my  own  part,  I  am  quite  contented  with  the  little  lot  I  mean 
to  make  for  myself  somewhere  in  the  country,  when  I  mean 
to  step  into  my  father's  shoes  and  plod  along.  A  man's 
affections  are  just  as  fully  satisfied  by  the  smallest  circle  as 
they  can  be  by  a  vast  circumference.  Napoleon  himself  could 
only  dine  once,  and  he  could  not  have  more  mistresses  than  a 
house-student  at  the  Capucins.  Happiness,  old  man,  depends 
on  what  lies  between  the  sole  of  your  foot  and  the  crown  of 
your  head ;  and  whether  it  costs  a  million  or  a  hundred  louis, 
the  actual  amount  of  pleasure  that  you  receive  rests  entirely 
with  you,  and  is  just  exactly  the  same  in  any  case,  I  am  for 
letting  that  Chinaman  live." 

"Thank  you,  Bianchon ;  you  have  done  me  good.  We 
will  always  be  friends." 

"  I  say,"  remarked  the  medical  student,  as  they  came  to 
the  end  of  a  broad  walk  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  "  I  saw 
the  Michonneau  and  Poiret  a  few  minutes  ago  on  a  bench 
chatting  with  a  gentleman  whom  I  used  to  see  in  last  year's 
troubles  hanging  about  the  Chamber  of  Deputies ;  he  seems 
to  me,  in  fact,  to  be  a  detective  dressed  up  like  a  decent 
retired  tradesman.  Let  us  keep  an  eye  on  that  couple ;  I  will 
tell  you  why  some  time.  Good-by;  it  is  nearly  four  o'clock, 
and  I  must  be  in  to  answer  to  my  name." 

When  Eugene  reached  the  lodging-house,  he  found  Father 
Goriot  waiting  for  him. 

"  Here  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  "  here  is  a  letter  from  her. 
Pretty  handwriting,  eh  ?  " 

Eugene  broke  the  seal  and  read — 

** Sir: — I  have  heard  from  my  father  that  you  are  fond  of 
Italian  music.     I  shall  be  delighted  if  you  will  do  me  the 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  147 

pleasure  of  accepting  a  seat  in  my  box.  La  Fodor  and  Pelle- 
grini will  sing  on  Saturday,  so  I  am  sure  that  you  will  not 
refuse  me.  M.  de  Nucingen  and  I  shall  be  pleased  if  you 
will  dine  with  us ;  we  shall  be  quite  by  ourselves.  If  you 
will  come  and  be  my  escort,  my  husband  will  be  glad  to  be 
relieved  from  his  conjugal  duties.  Do  not  answer,  but  simply- 
come.     Yours  sincerely, 

"D.  DE  N.'* 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  Father  Goriot,  when  Eugene  had 
read  the  letter.  "You  are  going,  aren't  you?"  he  added, 
when  he  had  smelt  the  writing-paper.  *'  How  nice  it  smells  ! 
Her  fingers  have  touched  it,  that  is  certain." 

"  A  woman  does  not  fling  herself  at  a  man's  head  in  this 
way,"  the  student  was  thinking.  "She  wants  to  use  me  to 
bring  back  de  Marsay  ;  nothing  but  pique  makes  a  woman  do 
a  thing  like  this." 

"Well,"  said  Father  Goriot,  "what  are  you  thinking 
about?" 

Eugene  did  not  know  the  fever  of  vanity  that  possessed 
some  women  in  those  days  ;  how  should  he  imagine  that  to 
open  a  door  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  a  banker's  wife 
would  go  to  almost  any  length.  For  the  coterie  of  the 
Faubourg  Saint-Germain  was  a  charmed  circle,  and  the  women 
who  moved  in  it  were  at  that  time  the  queens  of  society  ;  and 
among  the  greatest  of  these  Dames  du  Petit-Chateau,  as  they 
were  called,  were  Mme.  de  Beauseant  and  her  friends  the 
Duchesse  de  Langeais  and  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse. 
Rastignac  was  alone  in  his  ignorance  of  the  frantic  efforts 
made  by  women  who  lived  in  the  Chausee-d'Antin  to  enter 
this  seventh  heaven  and  shine  among  the  brightest  constella- 
tions of  their  sex.  But  his  cautious  disposition  stood  him  in 
good  stead,  and  kept  his  judgment  cool,  and  the  not  alto- 
gether enviable  power  of  imposing  instead  of  accepting 
conditions. 


148  FATHER   GORIOT. 

"Yes,  I  am  going,"  he  replied. 

So  it  was  curiosity  that  drew  him  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen  ; 
while,  if  she  had  treated  him  disdainfully,  passion,  perhaps, 
might  have  brought  him  to  her  feet.  Still  he  waited  almost 
impatiently  for  to-morrow,  and  the  hour  when  he  could  go  to 
her.  There  is  almost  as  much  charm  for  a  young  man  in  a 
first  flirtation  as  there  is  in  first  love.  The  certainty  of  suc- 
cess is  a  source  of  happiness  to  which  men  do  not  confess, 
and  all  the  charm  of  certain  women  lies  in  this.  The  desire 
of  conquest  springs  no  less  from  the  easiness  than  from  the 
difficulty  of  triumph,  and  every  passion  is  excited  or  sustained 
by  one  or  other  of  these  two  motives  which  divide  the  empire 
of  love.  Perhaps  this  division  is  one  result  of  the  great 
question  of  temperaments ;  which,  after  all,  dominates  social 
life.  The  melancholic  temperament  may  stand  in  need  of 
the  tonic  of  coquetry,  while  those  of  nervous  or  sanguine 
complexion  withdraw  if  they  meet  with  a  too  stubborn  resist- 
ance. In  other  words,  the  lymphatic  temperament  is  essen- 
tially despondent  and  the  rhapsodic  is  bilious. 

Eugene  lingered  over  his  toilet  with  an  enjoyment  of  all 
its  little  details  that  is  grateful  to  a  young  man's  self-love, 
though  he  will  not  own  to  it  for  fear  of  being  laughed  at. 
He  thought,  as  he  arranged  his  hair,  that  a  pretty  woman's 
glances  would  wander  through  the  dark  curls.  He  indulged 
in  childish  tricks  like  any  young  girl  dressing  for  a  dance,  and 
gazed  complacently  at  his  graceful  figure  while  he  smoothed 
out  the  creases  of  his  coat. 

"There  are  worse  figures,  that  is  certain,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

Then  he  went  downstairs,  just  as  the  rest  of  the  household 
were  sitting  down  to  dinner,  and  took  with  good-humor  the 
boisterous  applause  excited  by  his  elegant  appearance.  The 
amazement  with  which  any  attention  to  dress  is  regarded  in  a 
lodging-house  is  a  very  characteristic  trait.  No  one  can  put 
on  a  new  coat  but  every  one  else  must  say  his  say  about  it. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  149 

"  Clk  !  elk!  elk  r  "  eried  Bianehon,  making  the  sound 
with  his  tongue  against  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  like  a  driver 
urging  on  a  horse. 

"He  holds  himself  like  a  duke  and  a  peer  of  Franee," 
said  Mme.  Vauquer. 

"Are  you  going  a-courting?"  inquired  Mile.  Miehon- 
neau. 

"  Cock-a-doodle-doo?  "  cried  the  artist. 

"My  compliments  to  my  lady,  your  wife,"  from  the  em- 
ploye at  the  Museum. 

"  Your  wife  ;  have  you  a  wife  ?  "  interposed  the  redoubtable 
Poiret. 

"Yes,  in  compartments,  water-tight  and  floats,  guaranteed 
fast  color,  all  prices  from  twenty-five  to  forty  sous,  neat  cheek 
patterns  in  the  latest  fashion  and  best  taste,  will  wash,  half- 
linen,  half-cotton,  half-wool ;  a  certain  cure  for  toothache 
and  other  complaints  under  the  patronage  of  the  Royal  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  !  children  like  it  !  a  remedy  for  headache, 
indigestion,  and  all  other  diseases  affecting  the  throat,  eyes, 
and  ears  !  "  cried  Vautrin,  with  the  comical  imitation  of  the 
volubility  of  a  quack  at  a  fair.  "  And  how  much  shall  we 
say  for  this  marvel,  gentlemen  ?  Twopence  ?  No.  Nothing 
of  the  sort.  All  that  is  left  in  stock  after  supplying  the  Great 
Mogul.  All  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  including  the 
Gr-r-r-rand  Duke  of  Baden,  have  been  anxious  to  get  a  sight 
of  it.  Walk  up  !  walk  up  !  gentlemen  !  Pay  at  the  desk  as 
you  go  in  !  Strike  up  the  music  there  !  Brooum,  la,  la,  trinn  ! 
la,  la,  bourn  !  boum  !  Mister  Clarinette,  there  you  are  out  of 
tune!"  he  added  gruffly;  "I  will  rap  your  knuckles  for 
you!" 

"  Goodness  !  what  an  amusing  man  !  "  said  Mme.  Vauquer 
to  Mme.  Couture ;  "  I  should  never  feel  dull  with  him  in 
the  house." 

This  burlesque  of  Vautrin's  was  the  signal  for  an  outburst 
of  merriment,  and  under  cover  of  jokes  and  laughter  Eugdne 


150  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

caught  a  glance  from  Mile.  Taillefer ;  she  had  leaned  over  to 
say  a  few  words  in  Mme.  Couture* s  ear. 

"The  cab  is  at  the  door,"  announced  Sylvie. 

"  But  where  is  he  going  to  dine  ?  "  asked  Bianchon. 

*'  With  Madame  la  Baronne  de  Nucingen." 

**M.  Goriot's  daughter,"  said  the  law  student. 

At  this,  all  eyes  turned  to  the  old  vermicelli-maker ;  he  was 
gazing  at  Eugene  with  something  like  envy  in  his  eyes. 

Rastignac  reached  the  house  in  the  Rue  Saint-Lazare,  one 
of  those  many-windowed  houses  with  a  mean-looking  portico 
and  slender  columns,  which  are  considered  the  thing  in  Paris ; 
a  typical  banker's  house,  decorated  in  the  most  ostentatious 
fashion ;  the  walls  lined  with  stucco,  the  landings  of  marble 
mosaic.  Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  sitting  in  a  little  drawing- 
room  ;  the  room  was  painted  in  the  Italian  fashion,  and  dec- 
orated like  a  restaurant.  The  Baroness  seemed  depressed. 
The  effort  that  she  made  to  hide  her  feelings  aroused  Eugene's 
interest ;  it  was  plain  that  she  was  not  playing  a  part.  He 
had  expected  a  little  flutter  of  excitement  at  his  coming,  and 
he  found  her  dispirited  and  sad.  The  disappointment  piqued 
his  vanity. 

"My  claim  to  your  confidence  is  very  small,  madame," 
he  said,  after  rallying  her  on  her  abstracted  mood;  "but  if 
I  am  in  the  way,  please  tell  me  so  frankly ;  I  count  on  your 
good  faith." 

"  No,  stay  with  me,"  she  said ;  "I  shall  be  all  alone  if  you 
go.  Nucingen  is  dining  in  town,  and  I  do  not  want  to  be 
alone ;  I  want  to  be  taken  out  of  myself." 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"You  are  the  very  last  person  whom  I  should  tell,"  she 
exclaimed. 

"Then  I  am  connected  in  some  way  with  this  secret.  I 
wonder  what  it  is." 

"Perhaps.  Yet,  no,"  she  went  on;  "it  is  a  domestic 
quarrel,  which  ought  to  be  buried  in  the  depths  of  the  heart. 


'AM    I    TO    YOUR  TASTE?'- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  161 

I  am  very  unhappy ;  did  I  not  tell  you  so  the  day  before 
yesterday?     Golden  chains  are  the  heaviest  of  all  fetters." 

When  a  woman  tells  a  young  man  that  she  is  very  unhappy, 
and  when  the  young  man  is  clever,  and  well-dressed,  and  has 
fifteen  hundred  francs  lying  idle  in  his  pocket,  he  is  sure  to 
think  as  Eugene  said,  and  he  becomes  a  coxcomb. 

"What  can  you  have  left  to  wish  for?"  he  answered. 
"You  are  young,  beautiful,  beloved,  and  rich." 

"  Do  not  let  us  talk  of  my  affairs,"  she  said,  shaking  her 
head  mournfully.  "We  will  dine  together  ttte-a-itte,  and 
afterwards  we  will  go  to  hear  the  most  exquisite  music.  Am 
I  to  your  taste?"  she  went  on,  rising  and  displaying  her 
gown  of  white  cashmere,  covered  with  Persian  designs  in  the 
most  superb  taste. 

"I  wish  that  you  were  altogether  mine,"  said  Eugene; 
"you  are  charming." 

"You  would  have  a  forlorn  piece  of  property,"  she  said, 
smiling  bitterly.  "  There  is  nothing  about  me  that  betrays 
my  wretchedness ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  appearances,  I  am  in 
despair.  I  cannot  sleep ;  my  troubles  have  broken  my  night's 
rest ;  I  shall  grow  ugly." 

"Oh  !  that  is  impossible,"  cried  the  law  student ;  "but  I 
am  curious  to  know  what  these  troubles  can  be  that  a  devoted 
love  cannot  efface." 

"  Ah !  if  I  were  to  tell  you  about  them,  you  would  shun 
me,"  she  said.  "  Your  love  for  me  as  yet  is  only  the  conven- 
tional gallantry  that  men  use  to  masquerade  in ;  and,  if  you 
really  loved  me,  you  would  be  driven  to  despair.  I  must  keep 
silent,  you  see.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else  for  pity's 
sake,"  she  added.     '*  Let  me  show  you  my  rooms." 

"No;  let  us  stay  here,"  answered  Eugene;  he  sat  down 
on  the  sofa  before  the  fire,  and  boldly  took  Mme.  de  Nucin- 
gen's  hand  in  his.  She  surrendered  it  to  him ;  he  even  felt 
the  pressure  of  her  fingers  in  one  of  the  spasmodic  clutches 
that  betray  terrible  agitation. 


152  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

"Listen,"  said  Rastignac;  "if  you  are  in  trouble,  you 
ought  to  tell  me  about  it.  I  want  to  prove  to  you  that  I  love 
you  for  yourself  alone.  You  must  speak  to  me  frankly  about 
your  troubles,  so  that  I  can  put  an  end  to  them,  even  if  I  have 
to  kill  half-a-dozen  men  ;  or  I  shall  go,  never  to  return." 

"Very  well,"  she  cried,  putting  her  hand  to  her  forehead 
in  an  agony  of  despair,  "  I  will  put  you  to  the  proof,  and  this 
very  moment.  Yes,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  have  no  other 
resource  left." 

She  rang  the  bell. 

"Are  the  horses  put  in  for  the  master?"  she  asked  of  the 
servant. 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"  I  shall  take  his  carriage  myself.  He  can  have  mine  and 
my  horses.     Serve  dinner  at  seven  o'clock." 

"Now,  come  with  me,"  she  said  to  Eugene,  who  thought 
as  he  sat  in  the  banker's  carriage  beside  Mme.  de  Nucingen 
that  he  must  surely  be  dreaming. 

"To  the  Palais-Royal,"  she  said  to  the  coachman  ;  "  stop 
near  the  Thefi,tre-Fran9ais. " 

She  seemed  to  be  too  troubled  and  excited  to  answer  the 
innumerable  questions  that  Eugene  put  to  her.  He  was  at 
a  loss  what  to  think  of  her  mute  resistance,  her  obstinate 
silence. 

"  Another  moment  and  she  will  escape  me,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  at  last,  the  Baroness  gave  the  law 
student  a  glance  that  silenced  his  wild  words,  for  he  was  almost 
beside  himself. 

"  Is  it  true  that  you  love  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  and  in  his  manner  and  tone  there 
was  no  trace  of  the  uneasiness  that  he  felt. 

"You  will  not  think  ill  of  me,  will  you,  whatever  I  may 
ask  of  you  ?  " 

**No." 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  153 

"  Are  you  ready  to  do  my  bidding  ?  " 

"Blindly." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  to  a  gaming-house  ?  "  she  asked  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

"Never." 

"  Ah  !  now  I  can  breathe.  You  will  have  luck.  Here  is 
my  purse,"  she  said.  "Take  it !  there  are  a  hundred  francs 
in  it,  all  that  such  a  fortunate  woman  as  I  can  call  her  own. 
Go  up  into  one  of  the  gaming-houses — I  do  not  know  where 
they  are,  but  there  are  some  near  the  Palais- Royal.  Try  your 
luck  with  the  hundred  francs  at  a  game  they  call  roulette ; 
lose  it  all,  or  bring  me  back  six  thousand  francs.  I  will  tell 
you  about  my  troubles  when  you  come  back." 

"  Devil  take  me,  I'm  sure,  if  I  have  a  glimmer  of  a  notion 
of  what  I  am  about,  but  I  will  obey  you,"  he  added,  with 
inward  exultation,  as  he  thought,  "She  has  gone  too  far  to 
draw  back — she  can  refuse  me  nothing  now  !  " 

Eugene  took  the  dainty  little  purse,  inquired  the  way  of 
a  second-hand  clothes-dealer,  and  hurried  to  number  9,  which 
happened  to  be  the  nearest  gaming-house.  He  mounted  the 
staircase,  surrendered  his  hat,  and  asked  the  way  to  the 
roulette-table,  whither  the  attendant  took  him,  not  a  little 
to  the  astonishment  of  the  regular  comers.  All  eyes  were 
fixed  on  Eugene  as  he  asked,  without  bashfulness,  where  he 
was  to  deposit  his  stakes. 

"  If  5'ou  put  a  louis  on  one  only  of  those  thirty-six 
numbers,  and  it  turns  up,  you  will  win  thirty-six  louis,"  said 
a  respectable-looking,  white-haired  old  man  in  answer  to  his 
inquiry. 

Eugene  staked  the  whole  of  his  money  on  the  number 
21  (his  own  age).  There  was  a  cry  of  surprise;  before  he 
knew  what  he  had  done,  he  had  won. 

"Take  your  money  off,  sir,"  said  the  old  white-haired 
gentleman ;  "  yon  don't  often  win  twice  running  by  that 
system  of  playing." 


154  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

Eugene  took  the  rake  that  the  old  man  handed  to  him, 
and  drew  in  his  three  thousand  six  hundred  francs,  and,  still 
perfectly  ignorant  of  what  he  was  about,  staked  again  on  the 
red.  The  bystanders  watched  him  enviously  as  they  saw  him 
continue  to  play.  The  disc  turned,  and  again  he  won  ;  the 
banker  threw  him  three  thousand  six  hundred  francs  once 
more. 

"  You  have  seven  thousand  two  hundred  francs  of  your 
own,"  the  old  gentleman  said  in  his  ear.  "  Take  my  advice 
and  go  away  with  your  winnings ;  red  has  turned  up  eight 
times  already.  If  you  are  charitable,  you  will  show  your 
gratitude  for  sound  counsel  by  giving  a  trifle  to  an  old  prefect 
of  Napoleon's  who  is  down  on  his  luck  and  without  the  means 
to  stake  anew." 

Rastignac's  head  was  swimming;  he  saw  ten  of  his  louis 
pass  into  the  white-haired  man's  possession,  and  went  down- 
stairs with  his  seven  thousand  francs ;  he  was  still  ignorant  of 
the  game,  and  stupefied  by  his  luck. 

"So  that  is  over;  and  now  where  will  you  take  me?  "  he 
asked,  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed,  and  he  showed  the 
seven  thousand  francs  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen. 

Delphine  flung  her  arms  about  him,  but  there  was  no  pas- 
sion in  that  wild  embrace. 

"  You  have  saved  me !  "  she  cried,  and  tears  of  joy  flowed 
fast. 

"I  will  tell  you  everything,  my  friend.  For  you  will  be 
my  friend,  will  you  not  ?  I  am  rich,  you  think,  very  rich ; 
I  have  everything  I  want,  or  I  seem  as  if  I  had  everything. 
Very  well,  you  must  know  that  M.  de  Nucingen  does  not 
allow  me  the  control  of  a  single  penny ;  he  pays  all  the  bills 
for  the  house  expenses ;  he  pays  for  my  carriages  and  opera 
box ;  he  does  not  give  me  enough  to  pay  for  my  dress,  and 
he  reduces  me  to  poverty  in  secret  on  purpose.  I  am  too 
proud  to  beg  from  him.  I  should  be  the  vilest  of  women  if  I 
could  take  his  money  at  the  price  at  which  he  offers  it.     Do 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  155 

you  ask  how  I,  with  seven  hundred  thousand  francs  of  my  own, 
couid  let  myself  be  robbed  ?  It  is  because  I  was  proud,  and 
scorned  to  speak.  We  are  so  young,  so  artless  when  our 
married  life  begins  !  I  never  could  bring  myself  to  ask  my 
husband  for  money  ;  the  words  would  have  made  my  lips 
bleed,  I  did  not  dare  to  ask ;  I  spent  my  savings  first,  and 
then  the  money  that  my  poor  father  gave  me,  then  I  ran  into 
debt.  Marriage  for  me  is  a  hideous  farce ;  I  cannot  talk 
about  it ;  let  it  suffice  to  say  that  Nucingen  and  I  have  sepa- 
rate rooms,  and  that  I  would  fling  myself  out  of  the  window 
sooner  than  consent  to  any  other  manner  of  life.  I  suffered 
agonies  when  I  had  to  confess  to  my  girlish  extravagance,  my 
debts  for  jewelry  and  trifles  (for  our  poor  father  had  never 
refused  us  anything,  and  spoiled  us),  but  at  last  I  found 
courage  to  tell  him  about  them.  After  all,  I  had  a  fortune 
of  my  own.  Nucingen  flew  into  a  rage  ;  he  said  that  I  should 
be  the  ruin  of  him,  and  used  frightful  language ;  I  wished 
myself  a  hundred  feet  down  in  the  earth.  He  had  my  dowry, 
so  he  paid  my  debts,  but  he  stipulated  at  the  same  time  that 
my  expenses  in  the  future  must  not  exceed  a  certain  fixed  sum, 
and  I  gave  way  for  the  sake  of  peace.  And  then,"  she  went 
on,  "  I  wanted  to  gratify  the  self-love  of  some  one  whom  you 
know.  He  may  have  deceived  me,  but  I  should  do  him  the 
justice  to  say  that  there  was  nothing  petty  in  his  character. 
But,  after  all,  he  threw  me  over  disgracefully.  If,  at  a 
woman's  utmost  need,  somebody  heaps  gold  upon  her,  he  ought 
never  to  forsake  her ;  that  love  should  last  for  ever !  But 
you,  at  one-and-twenty,  you,  the  soul  of  honor,  with  the  un- 
sullied conscience  of  youth,  will  ask  me  how  a  woman  can 
bring  herself  to  accept  money  in  such  a  way.  Mon  Dieu  /  is 
it  not  natural  to  share  everything  with  the  one  to  whom  we 
owe  our  happiness  ?  When  all  has  been  given,  why  should 
we  pause  and  hesitate  over  a  part?  Money  is  as  nothing 
between  us  until  the  moment  when  the  sentiment  that  bound 
us  together  ceases  to  exist.    Were  we  not  bound  to  each  other 


156  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

for  life  ?  Who  that  believes  in  love  foresees  such  an  end  of 
love  ?  You  swear  to  love  us  eternally ;  how,  then,  can  our 
interests  be  separate? 

"You  do  not  know  how  I  suffered  to-day  when  Nucingen 
refused  to  give  me  six  thousand  francs ;  he  spends  as  much 
as  that  every  month  on  his  mistress,  an  opera  dancer !  I 
thought  of  killing  myself.  The  wildest  thoughts  came  into 
my  head.  There  have  been  moments  in  my  life  when  I  have 
envied  my  servants,  and  would  have  changed  places  with  my 
maid.  It  was  madness  to  think  of  going  to  our  father,  An- 
astasie  and  I  have  bled  him  dry  j  our  poor  father  would  have 
sold  himself  if  he  could  have  raised  six  thousand  francs  that 
way.  I  should  have  driven  him  frantic  to  no  purpose.  You 
have  saved  me  from  shame  and  death ;  I  was  beside  myself 
with  anguish.  Ah !  monsieur,  I  owed  you  this  explanation 
after  my  mad  ravings.     When  you  left  me  just  now,  as  soon 

as  you  were  out  of  sight,  I  longed  to  escape,  to  run  away 

where,  I  did  not  know.  Half  the  women  in  Paris  lead  such 
lives  as  mine ;  they  live  in  apparent  luxury,  and  in  their  souls 
are  tormented  by  anxiety.  I  know  of  poor  creatures  even 
more  miserable  than  I ;  there  are  women  who  are  driven  to 
ask  their  tradespeople  to  make  out  false  bills,  women  who 
rob  their  husbands.  Some  men  believe  that  an  India  shawl 
worth  a  .hundred  louis  only  cost  five  hundred  francs,  others 
that  a  shawl  costing  five  hundred  francs  is  worth  a  hundred 
louis.  There  are  women,  too,  with  narrow  incomes,  who 
scrape  and  save  and  starve  their  children  to  pay  for  a  dress. 
I  am  innocent  of  these  base  meannesses.  But  this  is  the  last 
extremity  of  my  torture.  Some  women  will  sell  themselves 
to  their  husbands,  and  so  obtain  their  way,  but  I,  at  any  rate, 
am  free.  If  I  chose,  Nucingen  would  cover  me  with  gold, 
but  I  would  rather  weep  on  the  breast  of  a  man  whom  I  can 
respect.  Ah  !  to-night,  M.  de  Marsay  will  no  longer  have  a 
right  to  think  of  me  as  a  woman  whom  he  has  paid."  She 
tried  to  conceal  her  tears  from  him,  hiding  her  face  in  her 


FATHER  GO  RIOT.  167 

hands;  Eugene  drew  them   away  and  looked  at  her;   she 
seemed  to  him  sublime  at  that  moment, 

"It  is  hideous,  is  it  not,"  she  cried,  "  to  speak  in  a  breath 
of  money  and  affection?  You  cannot  love  me  after  this," 
she  added. 

The  incongruity  between  the  ideas  of  honor  which  make 
women  so  great  and  the  errors  in  conduct  which  are  forced 
upon  them  by  the  constitution  of  society  had  thrown  Eugene's 
thoughts  into  confusion;  he  uttered  soothing  and  consoling 
words,  and  wondered  at  the  beautiful  woman  before  him,  and 
at  the  artless  imprudence  of  her  cry  of  pain. 

"You  will  not  remember  this  against  me?"  she  asked; 
** promise  me  that  you  will  not." 

"Ah!  madame,  I  am  incapable  of  doing  so,"  he  said. 
She  took  his  hand  and  held  it  to  her  heart,  a  movement  full 
of  grace  that  expressed  her  deep  gratitude. 

**  I  am  free  and  happy  once  more,  thanks  to  you,"  she  said. 
"Oh  !  I  have  felt  lately  as  if  I  were  in  the  grasp  of  an  iron 
hand.  But  after  this  I  mean  to  live  simply  and  to  spend 
nothing.  You  will  think  me  just  as  pretty,  will  you  not, 
my  friend  ?  Keep  this,"  she  went  on,  as  she  took  only  six  of 
the  bank-notes.  "  In  conscience  I  owe  you  a  thousand  crowns, 
for  I  really  ought  to  go  halves  with  you." 

Eugene's  maiden  conscience  resisted;  but  when  the  Baron- 
ess said,  "  I  am  bound  to  look  on  you  as  an  accomplice  or  as 
an  enemy,"  he  took  the  money. 

"  It  shall  be  a  last  stake  in  reserve,"  he  said,  "in  case  of 
misfortune. ' ' 

"That  was  what  I  was  dreading  to  hear,"  she  cried,  turn- 
ing pale.  "Oh,  if  you  would  that  I  should  be  anything  to 
you,  swear  to  me  that  you  will  never  re-enter  a  gaming-house. 
Great  heaven  !  that  I  should  corrupt  you  !  I  should  die  of 
sorrow !  " 

They  had  reached  the  Rue  Saint-Lazare  by  this  time.  The 
contrast  between  the  ostentation  of  wealth  in  the  house  and 


158  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

the  wretched  condition  of  its  mistress  dazed  the  student ;  and 
Vautrin's  cynical  words  began  to  ring  in  his  ears. 

"Seat  yourself  there,"  said  the  Baroness,  pointing  to  a  low 
chair  beside  the  fire.  **  I  have  a  difficult  letter  to  write,"  she 
added.     "  Tell  me  what  to  say." 

"Say  nothing,"  Eugene  answered  her.  "Put  the  bills  in 
an  envelope,  direct  it,  and  send  it  by  your  maid." 

"Why,  you  are  a  love  of  a  man,"  she  said.  "Ah  !  see 
what  it  is  to  have  been  well  brought  up.  That  is  the  Beau- 
s6ant  through  and  through,"  she  went  on,  smiling  at  him. 

"She  is  charming,"  thought  Eugene,  more  and  more  in 
love.  He  looked  round  him  at  the  room ;  there  was  an  osten- 
tatious character  about  the  luxury,  a  meretricious  taste  in  the 
splendor. 

"  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  rang  for  her  maid. 

"Ther^se,  take  this  to  M.  de  Marsay,  and  give  it  into  his 
hands  yourself.  If  he  is  not  at  home,  bring  the  letter  back 
to  me." 

Th^rese  went,  but  not  before  she  had  given  Eugene  a  spite- 
ful glance. 

Dinner  was  announced.  Rastignac  gave  his  arm  to  Mme. 
de  Nucingen,  she  led  the  way  into  a  pretty  dining-room,  and 
again  he  saw  the  luxury  of  the  table  which  he  had  admired  in 
his  cousin's  house. 

"  Come  and  dine  with  me  on  opera  evenings,  and  we  will 
go  to  the  Italiens  afterwards,"  she  said. 

"  I  should  soon  grow  used  to  the  pleasant  life  if  it  could 
last,  but  I  am  a  poor  student,  and  I  have  my  way  to  make." 

"  Oh  !  you  will  succeed,"  she  said,  laughing.  "You  will 
see.  All  that  you  wish  will  come  to  pass,  /did  not  expect 
to  be  so  happy." 

It  is  the  wont  of  women  to  prove  the  impossible  by  the 
possible,  and  to  annihilate  facts  by  presentiments.  When 
Mme.  de  Nucingen  and  Rastignac  took  their  places  in  her 
box  at  the  Bouffons,  her  face  wore  a  look  of  happiness  that 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  169 

made  her  so  lovely  that  every  one  indulged  in  those  small 
slanders  against  which  women  are  defenseless ;  for  the  scandal 
that  is  uttered  lightly  is  often  seriously  believed.  Those  who 
know  Paris  believe  nothing  that  is  said,  and  say  nothing  of 
what  is  done  there. 

Eugene  took  the  Baroness'  hand  in  his,  and  by  some  light 
pressure  of  the  fingers,  or  a  closer  grasp  of  the  hand,  they 
found  a  language  in  which  to  express  the  sensations  which  the 
music  gave  them.  It  was  an  evening  of  intoxicating  delight 
for  both  ;  and  when  it  ended,  and  they  went  out  together, 
Mme.  de  Nucingen  insisted  on  taking  Eugene  with  her  as  far 
as  the  Pont  Neuf,  he  disputing  with  her  the  whole  of  the  way 
for  a  single  kiss  after  all  those  that  she  had  showered  upon 
him  so  passionately  at  the  Palais-Royal ;  Eugene  reproached 
her  with  inconsistency. 

"That  was  gratitude,"  she  said,  "  for  devotion  that  I  did 
not  dare  to  hope  for,  but  now  it  would  be  a  promise." 

"And  will  you  give  me  no  promise,  ingrate  ?  " 

He  grew  vexed.  Then,  with  one  of  those  impatient  gestures 
that  fill  a  lover  with  ecstasy,  she  gave  him  her  hand  to  kiss, 
and  he  took  it  with  a  discontented  air  that  delighted  her. 

"  I  shall  see  you  at  the  ball  on  Monday,"  she  said. 

As  Eugene  went  home  in  the  moonlight,  he  fell  to  serious 
reflections.  He  was  satisfied,  and  yet  dissatisfied.  He  was 
pleased  with  an  adventure  which  would  probably  give  him  his 
desire,  for  in  the  end  one  of  the  prettiest  and  best-dressed 
women  in  Paris  would  be  his ;  but,  as  a  set-off,  he  saw  his 
hopes  of  fortune  brought  to  nothing  ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  real- 
ized this  fact,  the  vague  thoughts  of  yesterday  evening  began 
to  take  a  more  decided  shape  in  his  mind.  A  check  is  sure 
to  reveal  to  us  the  strength  of  our  hopes.  The  more  Eugene 
learned  of  the  pleasures  of  life  in  Paris,  the  more  impatient 
he  felt  of  poverty  and  obscurity.  He  crumpled  the  bank-note 
in  his  pocket,  and  found  any  quantity  of  plausible  excuses  for 
appropriating  it. 


160  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

He  reached  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevidve  at  last,  and 
from  the  stairhead  he  saw  a  light  in  Godot's  room  ;  the  old 
man  had  lighted  a  candle,  and  set  the  door  ajar,  lest  the 
student  should  pass  him  by,  and  go  to  his  room  without  "  tell- 
ing him  all  about  his  daughter,"  to  use  his  own  expression. 
Eugene,  accordingly,  told  him  everything  that  transpired  and 
without  reserve. 

**  Then  they  think  that  I  am  ruined  !  "  cried  Father  Goriot, 
in  an  agony  of  jealousy  and  desperation.  "  Why,  I  have  still 
thirteen  hundred  livres  a  year  !  Mon  Dieu  !  Poor  little  girl ! 
why  did  she  not  come  to  me  ?  I  would  have  sold  my  rentes ; 
she  should  have  had  some  of  the  principal,  and  I  would  have 
bought  a  life-annuity  with  the  rest.  My  good  neighbor,  why 
did  you  not  come  to  tell  me  of  her  difficulty  ?  How  had  you 
the  heart  to  go  and  risk  her  poor  little  hundred  francs  at  play  ? 
This  is  heart-breaking  work.  You  see  what  it  is  to  have  sons- 
in-law.  Oh  !  if  I  had  hold  of  them,  I  would  wring  their 
necks.     Mon  Dieu  !  crying!    Did  you  say  she  was  crying ?  " 

"  With  her  head  on  my  waistcoat,"  said  Eugene. 

"Oh!  give  it  to  me,"  said  Father  Goriot.  "What!  my 
daughter's  tears  have  fallen  there — my  darling  Delphine,  who 
never  used  to  cry  when  she  was  a  little  girl !  Oh  !  I  will  buy 
you  another ;  do  not  wear  it  again ;  let  me  have  it.  By  the 
terms  of  her  marriage-contract  she  ought  to  have  the  use  of 
her  property.  To-morrow  morning  I  will  go  and  see  Derville ; 
he  is  an  attorney.  I  will  demand  that  her  money  should  be 
invested  in  her  own  name.  I  know  the  law.  I  am  an  old 
wolf;  I  will  show  my  teeth." 

"Here,  father;  this  is  a  bank-note  for  a  thousand  francs 
that  she  wanted  me  to  keep  out  of  our  winnings.  Keep  them 
for  her,  in  the  pocket  of  the  waistcoat." 

Goriot  looked  hard  at  Eugene,  reached  out  and  took  the 
law-student's  hand,  and  Eugene  felt  a  tear  fall  on  it. 

"  You  will  succeed,"  the  old  man  said.  *•  God  is  just,  you 
see.     I  know  an  honest  man  when  I  see  him,  and  I  can  tell 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  161 

you,  there  are  not  many  men  like  you.  I  am  to  have  another 
dear  child  in  you,  am  I  ?  There,  go  to  sleep;  you  can  sleep, 
you  are  not  yet  a  father.  She  was  crying  !  and  I  have  to  be 
told  about  it ! — and  I  was  quietly  eating  my  dinner,  like  an 
idiot,  all  the  time — I,  who  would  sell  my  soul  to  save  one 
tear  to  either  of  them." 

"  An  honest  man  !  "  said  Eugdne  to  himself  as  he  lay  down. 
"  Upon  my  word,  I  think  I  will  be  an  honest  man  all  my  life  ; 
it  is  so  pleasant  to  obey  the  voice  of  conscience."  Perhaps 
none  but  believers  in  God  do  good  in  secret ;  and  Eugdne 
believed  in  a  God. 

The  next  day  Rastignac  went  at  the  appointed  time  to 
Mme.  de  Beauseant,  who  took  him  with  her  to  the  Duchesse 
de  Carigliano's  ball.  The  Duchesse  received  Eugene  most 
graciously.  Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  there.  Delphine's  dress 
seemed  to  suggest  that  she  wished  for  the  admiration  of  others, 
so  that  she  might  shine  the  more  in  Eugene's  eyes ;  she  was 
eagerly  expecting  a  glance  from  him,  hiding,  as  she  thought, 
this  eagerness  from  all  beholders.  This  moment  is  full  of 
charm  for  the  one  who  can  guess  all  that  passes  in  a  woman's 
mind.  Who  has  not  refrained  from  giving  his  opinion,  to 
prolong  her  suspense,  concealing  his  pleasure  from  a  desire  to 
tantalize,  seeking  a  confession  of  love  in  her  uneasiness, 
enjoying  the  fears  that  he  can  dissipate  by  a  smile?  In  the 
course  of  the  evening  the  law  student  suddenly  comprehended 
his  position  ;  he  saw  that,  as  the  cousin  of  Mme.  de  Beauseant, 
he  was  a  personage  in  this  world.  He  was  already  credited 
with  the  conquest  of  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  and  for  this  reason 
was  a  conspicuous  figure  ;  he  caught  the  envious  glances  of 
other  young  men,  and  experienced  the  earliest  pleasures  of 
coxcombry.  People  wondered  at  his  luck,  and  scraps  of  these 
conversations  came  to  his  ears  as  he  went  from  room  to  room  ; 
all  the  women  prophesied  his  success  ;  and  Delphine,  in  her 
dread  of  losing  him,  promised  that  this  evening  she  would  not 
11 


162  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

refuse  the  kiss  that  all  his  entreaties  could  scarcely  win 
yesterday. 

Rastignac  received  several  invitations.  His  cousin  pre- 
sented him  to  other  women  who  were  present ;  women  who 
could  claim  to  be  of  the  highest  fashion ;  whose  houses  were 
looked  upon  as  pleasant ;  and  this  was  the  loftiest  and  most 
fashionable  society  in  Paris  into  which  he  was  launched.  So 
this  evening  had  all  the  charm  of  a  brilliant  debut ;  it  was 
an  evening  that  he  was  to  remember  even  in  old  age,  as  a 
woman  looks  back  on  her  first  ball  and  the  memories  of  her 
girlish  triumphs. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  he  related  the  story  of  his 
success  for  the  benefit  of  Father  Goriot  and  the  lodgers. 
Vautrin  began  to  smile  in  a  diabolical  fashion. 

"And  do  you  suppose,"  cried  that  cold-blooded  logician, 
"that  a  young  man  of  fashion  can  live  here  in  the  Rue 
Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  in  the  Maison  Vauquer — an  exceed- 
ingly respectable  boarding-house  in  every  way,  I  grant  you, 
but  an  establishment  that,  none  the  less,  falls  short  of  being 
fashionable?  The  house  is  comfortable,  it  is  lordly  in  its 
abundance ;  it  is  proud  to  be  the  temporary  abode  of  a  Ras- 
tignac ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  in  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve, 
and  luxury  would  be  out  of  place  here,  where  we  only  aim  at 
the  purely  pairiarchalorama.  If  you  mean  to  cut  a  figure  in 
Paris,  my  young  friend,"  Vautrin  continxied,  with  half-paternal 
jocularity,  "you  must  have  three  horses,  a  tilbury  for  the 
mornings,  and  a  closed  carriage  for  the  evenings  ;  you  should 
spend  altogether  about  nine  thousand  francs  on  your  stables. 
You  would  show  yourself  unworthy  of  your  destiny  if  you 
spent  no  more  than  three  thousand  francs  with  your  tailor,  six 
hundred  in  perfumery,  a  hundred  crowns  to  your  shoemaker, 
and  a  hundred  more  to  your  hatter.  As  for  your  laundress, 
there  goes  another  thousand  francs ;  a  young  man  of  fashion 
must  of  necessity  make  a  great  point  of  his  linen ;  if  your 
linen  comes  up  to  the  required  standard,  people  often  do  not 


FATHER    GORIOT.  163 

look  any  farther.  Love  and  the  church  demand  a  fair  altar- 
cloth.  That  is  fourteen  thousand  francs.  I  am  saying  nothing 
of  losses  at  play,  bets,  and  presents;  it  is  impossible  to  allow 
less  than  two  thousand  francs  for  pocket  money.  I  have  led 
that  sort  of  life,  and  I  know  all  about  these  expenses.  Add 
the  cost  of  necessaries  next ;  three  hundred  louis  for  proven- 
der, a  thousand  francs  for  a  place  to  roost  in.  Well,  my  boy, 
for  all  these  little  wants  of  ours  we  had  need  to  have  twenty- 
five  thousand  francs  every  year  in  our  purse,  or  we  shall  find 
ourselves  in  the  kennel,  and  people  laughing  at  us,  and  our 
career  is  cut  short,  good-by  to  success,  and  good-by  to  your 
mistress.  I  am  forgetting  your  valet  and  your  groom  !  Is 
Christophe  going  to  carry  your  billets-doux  for  you  ?  And  do 
you  mean  to  employ  the  stationery  you  use  at  present  ?  Sui- 
cidal policy!  Hearken  to  the  wisdom  of  your  elders  !  "  he 
went  on,  his  bass  voice  growing  louder  at  each  syllable. 
"Either  take  up  your  quarters  in  a  garret,  live  virtuously,  and 
wed  your  work,  or  set  about  the  thing  in  a  different  way." 

Vautrin  winked  and  leered  in  the  direction  of  Mile.  Tail- 
lefer  to  enforce  his  remarks  by  a  look  which  recalled  the  late 
tempting  proposals  by  which  he  had  sought  to  corrupt  the 
student's  mind. 

Several  days  went  by,  and  Rastignac  lived  in  a  whirl  of 
gaiety.  He  dined  almost  every  day  with  Mme.  de  Nucingen, 
and  went  wherever  she  went,  only  returning  to  the  Rue  Neuve- 
Sainte-Genevieve  in  the  small  hours.  He  rose  at  mid-day, 
and  dressed  to  go  into  the  Bois  with  Delphine  if  the  day  was 
fine,  squandering  in  this  way  time  that  was  worth  far  more 
than  he  knew.  He  turned  as  eagerly  to  learn  the  lessons  of 
luxury,  and  was  as  quick  to  feel  its  fascination  as  the  flowers 
of  the  date  palm  to  receive  the  fertilizing  pollen.  He  played 
high,  lost  and  won  large  sums  of  money,  and  at  last  became 
accustomed  to  the  extravagant  life  that  young  men  lead  in 
Paris.  He  sent  fifteen  hundred  francs  out  of  his  first  winnings 
to  his  mother  and  sisters,  sending  handsome  presents  as  well 


164  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

as  the  money,  He  had  given  out  that  he  meant  to  leave  the 
Maison  Vauquer ;  but  January  came  and  went,  and  he  was 
still  there,  still  unprepared  to  go. 

One  rule  holds  good  of  most  young  men — whether  rich  or 
poor.  They  never  have  money  for  the  necessaries  of  life, 
but  they  always  have  money  to  spare  for  their  caprices — an 
anomaly  which  finds  its  explanation  in  their  youth  and  in 
the  almost  frantic  eagerness  with  which  youth  grasps  at 
pleasure.  They  are  reckless  witli  anything  obtained  on  credit, 
while  everything  for  which  they  must  pay  in  ready  money  is 
made  to  last  as  long  as  possible  ;  if  they  cannot  have  all 
that  they  want,  they  make  up  for  it,  it  would  seem,  by 
squandering  what  they  have.  To  state  the  matter  simply — 
a  student  is  far  more  careful  of  his  hat  than  of  his  coat, 
because  tlie  latter  being  a  comparatively  costly  article  of  dress, 
it  is  in  the  nature  of  things  that  a  tailor  should  be  a  creditor  ; 
but  it  is  otherwise  with  the  hatter ;  the  sums  of  money  spent 
with  him  are  so  modest  that  he  is  the  most  independent  and 
unmanageable  of  his  tribe,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  bring 
him  to  terms.  The  young  man  in  the  balcony  of  a  theatre 
who  displays  a  gorgeous  waistcoat  for  the  benefit  of  the  fair 
owners  of  opera  glasses  has  very  probably  no  socks  in  his 
wardrobe,  for  the  hosier  is  another  of  the  genus  of  weevils 
that  nibble  at  the  purse.  This  was  Rastignac's  condition. 
His  purse  was  always  empty  for  Mme.  Vauquer,  always  full  at 
the  demand  of  vanity  ;  there  was  a  periodical  ebb  and  flow  in 
his  fortunes,  which  was  seldom  favorable  to  the  payment  of 
just  debts.  If  he  was  to  leave  that  unsavory  and  mean  abode, 
where  from  time  to  time  his  pretensions  met  with  humiliation, 
the  first  step  was  to  pay  his  hostess  for  a  month's  board  and 
lodging,  and  the  second  to  purchase  furniture  worthy  of  the 
new  lodgings  he  must  take  in  his  quality  of  dandy,  a  course 
that  remained  impossible.  Rastignac,  out  of  his  winnings  at 
cards,  could  pay  his  jeweler  exorbitant  prices  for  gold 
watches  and  chains,  and,  then  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  play, 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  165 

would  carry  them  to  the  pawnbroker,  that  discreet  and  forbid- 
ding-looking friend  of  youth ;  but  when  it  was  a  question  of 
paying  for  board  or  lodging,  or  for  the  necessary  implements 
for  the  cultivation  of  his  Elysian  fields,  his  imagination  and 
pluck  alike  deserted  him.  There  was  no  inspiration  to  be 
found  in  vulgar  necessity,  in  debts  contracted  for  past  require- 
ments. Like  most  of  those  who  trust  to  their  luck,  he  put 
off  till  the  last  moment  the  payment  of  debts  that  among  the 
bourgeoisie  are  regarded  as  sacred  engagements,  acting  on 
the  plan  of  Mirabeau,  who  never  settled  his  baker's  bill  until 
it  underwent  a  formidable  transformation  into  a  bill  of 
exchange. 

It  was  about  this  time,  when  Rastignac  was  down  on  his 
luck  and  fell  into  debt,  that  it  became  clear  to  the  law-student's 
mind  that  he  must  have  some  more  certain  source  of  income 
if  he  meant  to  live  as  he  had  been  doing.  But  while  he 
groaned  over  the  thorny  problems  of  his  precarious  situation, 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  renounce  the  pleas- 
ures of  this  extravagant  life,  and  decided  that  he  must  con- 
tinue it  at  all  costs.  His  dreams  of  obtaining  a  fortune 
appeared  more  and  more  chimerical,  and  the  real  obstacles 
grew  more  formidable.  His  initiation  into  the  secrets  of  the 
Nucingen  household  had  revealed  to  him  that  if  he  were  to 
attempt  to  use  this  love  affair  as  a  means  of  mending  his 
fortunes,  he  must  swallow  down  all  sense  of  decency,  and 
renounce  all  the  generous  ideas  which  redeem  the  sins  of 
youth.  He  had  chosen  this  life  of  apparent  splendor,  but 
secretly  gnawed  by  the  canker-worm  of  remorse,  a  life  of 
fleeting  pleasure  dearly  paid  for  by  persistent  pain  ;  like  "  Le 
Distrait  "  of  La  Bruy^re,  he  had  descended  so  far  as  to  make 
his  bed  in  a  ditch  ;  but  (also  like  "  Le  Distrait  ")  he  himself  was 
uncontaminated  as  yet  by  the  mire  that  stained  his  garments. 

"So  we  have  killed  our  mandarin,  have  we?"  said  Bian- 
chon  one  day  as  they  left  the  dinner  table. 

*'  Not  yet,"  he  answered,  "  but  he  is  at  the  last  gasp." 


106  FATHER   GORIOT. 

The  medical  student  took  this  for  a  joke,  but  it  was  not  a 
jest.  Eugene  had  dined  in  the  house  that  night  for  the  first 
time  in  a  long  while,  and  had  looked  thoughtful  during  the 
meal.  He  had  taken  his  place  beside  Mile.  Taillefer,  and 
stayed  through  the  dessert,  giving  his  neighbor  an  expressive 
glance  from  time  to  time.  A  few  of  the  boarders  discussed 
the  walnuts  at  the  table,  and  others  walked  about  the  room, 
still  taking  part  in  a  conversation  which  had  begun  among 
them.  People  usually  went  when  they  chose  ;  the  amount  of 
time  that  they  lingered  being  determined  by  the  amount  of 
interest  that  the  conversation  possessed  for  them,  or  by  the 
difficulty  of  the  process  of  digestion.  In  winter-time  the 
room  was  seldom  empty  before  eight  o'clock,  when  the  four 
women  had  it  all  to  themselves,  and  made  up  for  the  silence 
previously  imposed  upon  them  by  the  preponderating  mascu- 
line element.  This  evening  Vautrin  had  noticed  Eugene's 
abstractedness,  and  stayed  in  the  room,  though  he  had  seemed 
to  be  in  a  hurry  to  finish  his  dinner  and  go.  All  through  the 
talk  afterwards  he  had  kept  out  of  sight  of  the  law  student, 
who  quite  believed  that  Vautrin  had  left  the  room.  He  now 
took  up  his  position  cunningly  in  the  sitting-room  instead  of 
going  when  the  last  boarders  went.  He  had  fathomed  the 
young  man's  thoughts,  and  felt  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand. 
Rastignac  was,  in  fact,  in  a  dilemma,  which  many  another 
young  man  under  similar  circumstances  must  have  most 
readily  understood. 

Mme.  de  Nucingen  might  love  him,  or  might  merely  be 
playing  with  him,  but  in  either  case  Rastignac  had  been  made 
to  experience  all  the  alternations  of  hope  and  despair  of 
genuine  passion,  and  all  the  diplomatic  arts  of  a  Parisienne 
had  been  employed  on  him.  After  compromising  herself  by 
continually  appearing  in  public  with  Mme.  de  Beaus6ant's 
cousin  she  still  hesitated,  and  would  not  give  him  the  lover's 
privileges  which  he  appeared  to  enjoy.  For  a  whole  month 
she  had  so  wrought  on  his  senses,  that  at  last  she  had  made  an 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  167 

impression  on  his  heart.  If  in  the  earliest  days  the  student 
had  fancied  himself  to  be  the  master,  Mme.  de  Nucingen  had 
since  become  the  stronger  of  the  two,  for  she  had  skillfully 
roused  and  played  upon  every  instinct,  good  or  bad,  in  the 
two  or  three  men  comprised  in  a  young  student  in  Paris. 
This  was  not  the  result  of  deep  design  on  her  part,  nor  was 
she  playing  a  part,  for  women  are  in  a  manner  true  to  them- 
selves even  through  their  grossest  deceit,  because  their  actions 
are  prompted  by  a  natural  impulse.  It  may  have  been  that 
Delphine,  who  had  allowed  this  young  man  to  gain  such  an 
ascendency  over  her,  conscious  that  she  had  been  too  demon- 
strative, was  obeying  a  sentiment  of  dignity,  and  either  re- 
pented of  her  concessions,  or  it  pleased  her  to  suspend  them. 
It  is  so  natural  to  a  Parisienne,  even  when  passion  has  almost 
mastered  her,  to  hesitate  and  pause  before  taking  the  plunge  ; 
to  probe  the  heart  of  him  to  whom  she  intrusts  her  future. 
And  once  already  Mme.  de  Nucingen' s  hopes  had  been  be- 
trayed, and  her  loyalty  to  a  selfish  young  lover  had  been 
despised.  She  had  good  reason  to  be  suspicious.  Or  it  may 
have  been  that  something  in  Eugene's  manner  (for  his  rapid 
success  was  making  a  coxcomb  of  him)  had  warned  her  that 
the  grotesque  nature  of  their  position  had  lowered  her  some- 
what in  his  eyes.  She  doubtless  wished  to  assert  her  dignity ; 
he  was  young,  and  she  would  be  great  in  his  eyes ;  for  the 
lover  who  had  forsaken  her  had  so  underestimated  her  that  she 
was  determined  that  Eugene  should  not  think  her  an  easy  con- 
quest, and  for  this  very  reason — he  knew  that  de  Marsay  had 
been  his  predecessor.  Finally,  after  the  degradation  of  sub- 
mission to  the  pleasure  of  a  heartless  young  rake,  it  was  so 
sweet  for  her  to  wander  in  the  flower-strewn  realms  of  love, 
that  it  was  not  wonderful  that  she  should  wish  to  dwell  a  while 
on  the  prospect,  to  tremble  with  the  vibrations  of  love,  to  feel 
the  freshness  of  the  breath  of  its  dawn.  The  true  lover  was 
suffering  for  the  sins  of  the  false.  This  inconsistency  is 
unfortunately  only  to  be  expected  so  long  as  men  do  not  know 


168  FATHER    GORIOT. 

how  many  flowers  are  mown  down  in  a  young  woman's  soul 
by  the  first  stroke  of  treachery. 

Whatever  her  reasons  may  have  been,  Delphine  was  play- 
ing with  Rastignac,  and  took  pleasure  in  playing  with  him, 
doubtless  because  she  felt  sure  of  his  love,  and  confident  that 
she  could  put  an  end  to  the  torture  as  soon  as  it  was  her  royal 
pleasure  to  do  so.  Eugene's  self-love  was  engaged  ;  he  could 
not  suffer  his  first  passage  of  love  to  end  in  a  defeat,  and  per- 
sisted in  his  suit,  like  a  sportsman  determined  to  bring  down 
at  least  one  partridge  to  celebrate  his  first  Feast  of  Saint 
Hubert.  The  pressure  of  anxiety,  his  wounded  self-love,  his 
despair,  real  or  feigned,  drew  him  nearer  and  nearer  to  this 
woman.  All  Paris  credited  him  with  this  conquest,  and  yet 
he  was  conscious  that  he  had  made  no  progress  since  the  day 
when  he  saw  Mme.  de  Nucingen  for  the  first  time.  He  did 
not  know  as  yet  that  a  woman's  coquetry  is  sometimes  more 
delightful  than  the  pleasure  of  secure  possession  of  her  love, 
and  was  possessed  with  helpless  rage.  If,  at  this  time,  while  she 
denied  herself  to  love,  Eugene  gathered  the  springtide  spoils 
of  his  life,  the  fruit,  somewhat  sharp  and  green,  and  dearly 
bought,  was  no  less  delicious  to  the  taste.  There  were 
moments  when  he  had  not  a  sou  in  his  pockets,  and  at  such 
times  he  thought  in  spite  of  his  conscience  of  Vautrin's  offer 
and  the  possibility  of  fortune  by  a  marriage  with  Mile. 
Taillefer.  Poverty  would  clamor  so  loudly  that  more  than 
once  he  was  on  the  point  of  yielding  to  the  cunning  tempta- 
tions of  the  terrible  sphinx,  whose  glance  had  so  often  exerted 
a  strange  spell  over  him.  His  dilemma,  in  short,  at  this  time 
proved  most  perplexing,  and  he  felt  greatly  depressed  in  spirit. 

Poiret  and  Mile.  Michonneau  went  up  to  their  rooms;  and 
Rastignac,  thinking  that  he  was  alone  with  the  women  in  the 
dining-room,  sat  between  Mme.  Vauquer  and  Mme.  Couture, 
who  was  nodding  over  the  woolen  cuffs  that  she  was  knitting 
by  the  stove,  and  looked  at  Mile.  Taillefer  so  tenderly  that 
she  lowered  her  eyes. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  169 

"Can  you  bt:  in  trouble,  M.  Eugene ?"  Victorine  said 
after  a  pause. 

"Who  has  not  his  troubles  ?  "  answered  Rastignac.  "  If  we 
men  were  sure  of  being  loved,  sure  of  a  devotion  which 
would  be  our  reward  for  the  sacrifices  which  we  are  always 
ready  to  make,  then  perhaps  we  should  have  no  troubles." 

For  answer  Mile.  Taillefer  only  gave  him  a  glance,  but  it 
was  impossible  to  mistake  its  meaning. 

"  You,  for  instance,  mademoiselle ;  you  feel  sure  of  your 
heart  to-day,  but  are  you  sure  that  it  will  never  change?" 

A  smile  flitted  over  the  poor  girl's  lips  ;  it  seemed  as  if  a  ray 
of  light  from  her  soul  had  lighted  up  her  face.  Eugene  was 
dismayed  at  the  sudden  explosion  of  feeling  caused  by  his 
words. 

"Ah!  but  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  you  should  be  rich 
and  happy  to-morrow,  suppose  that  a  vast  fortune  dropped 
down  from  the  clouds  for  you,  would  you  still  love  the  man 
whom  you  loved  in  your  days  of  poverty?" 

A  charming  movement  of  the  head  was  her  only  answer  to 
the  question  propounded. 

"Even  if  he  were  very  poor?" 

Again  the  same  mute  answer. 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking,  you  two?"  exclaimed 
Mme.  Vanquer. 

"Never  mind,"  answered  Eugene;  "we  understand  each 
other." 

"  So  there  is  to  be  an  engagement  of  marriage  between 
M.  le  Chevalier  Eugdne  de  Rastignac  and  Mile.  Victorine 
Taillefer,  is  there!"  The  words  were  uttered  in  Vautrin's 
deep  voice,  and  Vautrin  appeared  at  the  door  as  he  spoke. 

"Oh!  how  you  startled  me!"  Mme.  Couture  and  Mme. 
Vanquer  exclaimed  together. 

"  I  might  make  a  worse  choice,"  said  Rastignac,  laughing. 
Vautrin's  voice  had  thrown  him  into  the  most  painful  agita- 
tion that  he  had  yet  known. 


170  FATHER   GORTOT. 

"No  bad  jokes,  gentlemen  !  "  said  Mme.  Couture.  "My 
dear,  let  us  go  upstairs." 

Mme.  Vauquer  followed  the  two  ladies,  meaning  to  pass 
the  evening  in  their  room,  an  arrangement  that  economized 
fire  and  candlelight.     Eugene  and  Vautrin  were  left  alone. 

"I  felt  sure  you  would  come  round  to  it,"  said  the  elder 
man  with  the  coolness  that  nothing  seemed  to  shake.  "  But 
stay  a  moment.  I  have  as  much  delicacy  as  anybody  else. 
Don't  make  up  your  mind  on  the  spur  of  the  moment ;  you 
are  a  little  thrown  off  your  balance  just  now.  You  are  in 
debt,  and  I  want  you  to  come  over  to  my  way  of  thinking 
after  sober  reflection,  and  not  in  a  fit  of  passion  or  desperation. 
Perhaps  you  want  a  thousand  crowns.  There,  you  can  have 
them  if  you  like." 

The  tempter  took  out  a  pocket-book,  and  drew  thence  three 
bank-notes,  which  he  fluttered  before  the  student's  eyes. 
Eugene  was  in  a  most  painful  dilemma.  He  had  debts,  debts 
of  honor.  He  owed  a  hundred  louis  to  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda 
and  to  the  Comte  de  Trailles ;  he  had  not  the  money,  and  for 
this  reason  had  not  dared  to  go  to  Mme.  de  Restaud's  house, 
where  he  was  expected  that  evening.  It  was  one  of  those 
informal  gatherings  where  tea  and  little  cakes  are  handed 
round,  but  where  it  is  possible  to  lose  six  thousand  francs  at 
whist  in  the  course  of  a  night. 

"You  must  see,"  said  Eugene,  struggling  to  hide  a  con- 
vulsive tremor,  "  that  after  what  has  passed  between  us,  I 
cannot  possibly  lay  myself  under  any  obligation  to  you." 

"Quite  right;  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  other- 
wise," answered  the  tempter.  "  You  are  a  fine  young  fellow, 
honorable,  brave  as  a  lion,  and  as  gentle  as  a  young  girl. 
You  would  be  a  fine  haul  for  the  devil !  I  like  youngsters  of 
your  sort.  Get  rid  of  one  or  two  more  prejudices,  and  you 
will  see  the  world  as  it  is.  Make  a  little  scene  now  and  then, 
and  act  a  virtuous  part  in  it,  and  a  man  with  a  head  on  his 
shoulders  can  do  exactly  as  he  likes  amid  deafening  applause 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  171 

from  the  fools  in  the  gallery.  Ah  !  a  few  days  yet,  and  you 
will  be  with  us;  and  if  you  would  only  be  tutored  by  me,  I 
would  put  you  in  the  way  of  achieving  all  your  ambitions. 
You  should  no  sooner  form  a  wish  than  it  should  be  realized 
to  the  full ;  you  should  have  all  your  desires — honors,  wealth, 
or  women.  Civilization  should  flow  with  milk  and  honey  for 
you.  You  should  be  our  pet  and  favorite,  our  Benjamin.  We 
would  all  work  ourselves  to  death  for  you  with  pleasure ;  every 
obstacle  should  be  removed  from  your  path.  You  have  a  few 
prejudices  left ;  so  you  think  that  I  am  a  scoundrel,  do  you? 
Well,  M.  de  Turenne,  quite  as  honorable  a  man  as  you  take 
yourself  to  be,  had  some  little  private  transactions  with  bandits, 
and  did  not  feel  that  his  honor  was  tarnished.  You  would 
rather  not  lay  under  any  obligation  to  me,  eh?  You  need  not 
draw  back  on  that  account,"  Vautrin  went  on,  and  a  smile 
stole  over  his  lips.  "  Take  those  bits  of  paper  and  write 
across  this,"  he  added,  producing  a  piece  of  stamped  paper, 
^^  Accepted  the  sum  of  three  thousand  five  hundred  francs  due  this 
day  twelvemonth,  and  fill  in  the  date.  The  rate  of  interest  is 
stiff  enough  to  silence  any  scruples  on  your  part ;  it  gives  you 
the  right  to  call  me  a  Jew.  You  can  call  quits  with  me  on 
the  score  of  gratitude.  I  am  quite  willing  that  you  should 
despise  me  to-day,  because  I  am  sure  that  you  will  have  a 
kindlier  feeling  towards  me  later  on.  You  will  find  out 
fathomless  depths  in  my  nature,  enormous  and  concentrated 
forces  that  weaklings  call  vices,  but  you  will  never  find  me 
base  or  ungrateful.  In  short,  I  am  neither  a  pawn  nor  a 
bishop,  but  a  castle,  a  tower  of  strength,  my  boy." 

"  What  manner  of  man  are  you  ?  "  cried  Eugene.  "  Were 
you  created  to  torment  me?  " 

"  Why,  no  ;  I  am  a  good-natured  fellow,  who  is  willing  to  do 
a  dirty  piece  of  work  to  put  you  high  and  dry  above  the  mire 
for  the  rest  of  your  days.  Do  you  ask  the  reason  of  this 
devotion  ?  All  right ;  I  will  tell  you  that  some  of  these  days. 
A  word  or  two  in  your  ear  will  explain  it.     I  have  begun  by 


172  FATHER   GORIOT. 

shocking  you,  by  showing  you  the  way  to  ring  the  changes, 
and  giving  you  a  sight  of  the  mechanism  of  the  social  machine; 
but  your  first  fright  will  go  off  like  a  conscript's  terror  on  the 
battlefield.  You  will  grow  used  to  regarding  men  as  common 
soldiers  who  have  made  up  their  minds  to  lose  their  lives  for 
some  self-constituted  king.  Times  have  altered  strangely. 
Once  you  could  say  to  a  bravo,  '  Here  are  a  hundred  crowns  ; 
go  and  kill  Monsieur  So-and-so  for  me,'  and  you  could  sup 
quietly  after  turning  some  one  off  into  the  dark  for  the  least 
thing  in  the  world.  But  nowadays  I  propose  to  put  you  in  the 
way  of  a  handsome  fortune  :  you  have  only  to  nod  your  head, 
it  won't  compromise  you  in  any  way,  and  you  hesitate.  'Tis 
an  effeminate  age." 

Eugene  accepted  the  draft,  and  received  the  bank-notes  in 
exchange  for  it. 

"Well,  well.  Come,  now,  let  us  talk  rationally,"  Vautrin 
continued.  "  I  mean  to  leave  this  country  in  a  few  months' 
time  for  America,  and  set  about  planting  tobacco.  I  will 
send  you  the  cigars  of  friendship.  If  I  make  money  at  it,  I 
will  help  you  in  your  career.  If  I  have  no  children — which 
will  probably  be  the  case,  for  I  have  no  anxiety  to  raise  slips 
of  myself  here — you  shall  inherit  my  fortune.  That  is  what 
you  may  call  standing  by  a  man ;  but  I  myself  have  a  liking 
for  you.  I  have  a  mania,  too,  for  devoting  myself  to  some 
one  else.  I  have  done  it  before.  You  see,  my  boy,  I  live  in 
a  loftier  sphere  than  other  men  do ;  I  look  on  all  actions  as 
means  to  an  end,  and  the  end  is  all  that  I  look  at.  What  is 
a  man's  life  to  me?  Not  that,''  he  said,  and  he  snapped  his 
thumb-nail  against  his  teeth.  "A  man,  in  short,  is  every- 
thing to  me,  or  just  nothing  at  all.  Less  than  nothing  if  his 
name  happens  to  be  Poiret ;  you  can  crush  him  like  a  bug,  he 
is  flat  and  he  is  offensive.  But  a  man  is  a  god  when  he  is  like 
you  ;  he  is  not  a  machine  covered  with  a  skin,  but  a  theatre 
in  which  the  greatest  sentiments  are  displayed — great  thoughts 
and  feelings — and  for  these,  and  these  only,  I  live.     A  senti- 


fathp:r  goriot.  173 

ment — what  is  that  but  the  whole  world  in  a  thought?  Look 
at  Father  Goriot.  For  him,  his  two  girls  are  the  whole  uni- 
verse ;  they  are  the  clue  by  which  he  finds  his  way  through 
creation.  Well,  for  my  own  part,  and  I  have  fathomed  the 
depths  of  life,  there  is  only  one  real  sentiment — comradeship 
between  man  and  man.  Pierre  and  Jaffier,  that  is  my  passion. 
I  know  *'  Venice  Preserved  "  by  heart.  Have  you  met  many 
men  plucky  enough  when  a  comrade  says,  '  Let  us  bury  a  dead 
body  ! '  to  go  and  do  it  without  a  word  or  plaguing  him  by 
•taking  a  high  moral  tone  ?  I  have  done  it  myself.  I  should 
not  talk  like  this  to  just  everybody,  but  you  are  not  like  an 
ordinary  man  ;  one  can  talk  to  you,  you  can  understand 
things.  You  will  not  dabble  about  much  longer  among  the 
tadpoles  in  these  swamps.  Well,  then,  it  is  all  settled.  You 
will  marry.  Both  of  us  carry  our  point.  Mine  is  made  of 
iron,  and  will  never  soften,  he  !  he  !  " 

Vautrin  went  out.  He  would  not  wait  to  hear  the  student's 
repudiation,  he  wished  to  put  Eugene  at  his  ease.  He  seemed 
to  understand  the  secret  springs  of  the  faint  resistance  still 
made  by  the  younger  man  ;  the  struggles  in  which  men  seek 
to  preserve  their  self-respect  by  justifying  their  blameworthy 
actions  to  themselves. 

"  He  may  do  as  he  likes ;  I  shall  not  marry  Mile.  Taillefer, 
that  is  certain,"  said  Eugene  to  himself. 

He  regarded  this  man  with  abhorrence,  and  yet  the  very 
cynicism  of  Vautrin's  ideas,  and  the  audacious  way  in  which 
he  used  other  men  for  his  own  ends,  raised  him  in  the  student's 
eyes ;  but  the  thought  of  a  compact  threw  Eugene  into  a  fever 
of  apprehension,  and  not  until  he  had  recovered  somewhat 
did  he  dress,  call  for  a  cab,  and  go  to  Mme.  de  Restaud's. 

For  some  days  the  Countess  had  paid  more  and  more  atten- 
tion to  a  young  man  whose  every  step  seemed  a  triumphal 
progress  in  the  great  world  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  miglit 
be  a  formidable  power  before  long.  He  paid  Messieurs  de 
Trailles  and  d'Ajuda,  played  at  whist  for  part  of  the  evening. 


174  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

and  made  good  his  losses.  Most  men  who  have  their  way  to 
make  are  more  or  less  fatalists,  and  Eugene  was  superstitious ; 
he  chose  to  consider  that  his  luck  was  heaven's  reward  for 
his  perseverance  in  the  right  way.  As  soon  as  possible  on 
the  following  morning  he  asked  Vautrin  whether  the  bill  that 
he  had  given  was  still  in  the  other's  possession  ;  and  on  re- 
ceiving a  reply  in  the  affirmative,  he  repaid  the  three  thousand 
francs  with  a  not  unnatural  relief. 

"  Everything  is  going  on  well,"  said  Vautrin. 

"  But  I  am  not  your  accomplice,"  said  Eugene. 

**  I  know,  I  know,"  Vautrin  broke  in.  "  You  are  still  act- 
ing like  a  child.  You  are  making  mountains  out  of  molehills 
at  the  outset." 

Two  days  later,  Poiret  and  Mile.  Michonneau  were  sitting 
together  on  a  bench  in  the  sun.  They  had  chosen  a  little 
frequented  alley  in  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  and  a  gentleman 
was  chatting  with  them,  the  same  person,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
about  whom  the  medical  student  had,  not  without  good  reason, 
his  own  suspicions. 

"Mademoiselle,"  this  M.  Gondureau  was  saying,  "I  do 
not  see  any  cause  for  your  scruples.  His  excellency  mon- 
seigneur  the  minister  of  police " 

*'Ah!"  echoed  Poiret,  "His  excellency  monseigneur  the 
minister  of  police  !  " 

"Yes,  his  excellency  is  taking  a  personal  interest  in  the 
matter,"  said  Gondureau. 

Who  would  think  it  probable  that  Poiret,  a  retired  clerk, 
doubtless  possessed  of  some  notions  of  civic  virtue,  though 
there  might  be  nothing  else  in  his  head — who  would  think  it 
likely  that  such  a  man  would  continue  to  lend  an  ear  to  this 
supposed  independent  gentleman  of  the  Rue  de  Buffon,  when 
the  latter  dropped  the  mask  of  a  decent  citizen  by  that  word 
"police,"  and  gave  a  glimpse  of  the  features  of  a  detective 
from  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem  ?  And  yet  nothing  was  more 
natural.     Perhaps  the  following  remarks  from   the  hitherto 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  175 

unpublished  records  made  by  certain  observers  will  throw  a 
light  on  the  particular  species  to  which  Poiret  belonged  in  the 
great  family  of  fools.  There  is  a  race  of  quill-drivers,  con- 
fined in  the  columns  of  the  budget  between  the  first  degree  of 
latitude  (a  kind  of  administrative  Greenland  where  the  salaries 
begin  at  twelve  hundred  francs)  to  the  third  degree,  a  more 
temperate  zone,  where  incomes  grow  from  three  to  six  thou- 
sand francs,  a  climate  where  the  bonus  flourishes  like  a  half- 
hardy  annual  in  spite  of  some  difficulties  of  culture.  A  char- 
acteristic trait  that  best  reveals  the  feeble  narrow-mindedness 
of  these  inhabitants  of  petty  officialdom  is  a  kind  of  involun- 
tary, mechanical,  and  instinctive  reverence  for  the  Grand 
Lama  of  every  ministry,  known  to  the  rank  and  file  only  by 
his  signature  (an  illegible  scrawl)  and  by  his  title — "  His  ex- 
cellency monseigneur  le  minister,"  five  words  which  produce 
as  much  effect  as  the  //  Bondo  Cant  of  the  Calife  de  Bagdad, 
five  words  which  in  the  eyes  of  this  low  order  of  intelligence 
represent  a  sacred  power  from  which  there  is  no  appeal.  The 
minister  is  administratively  infallible  for  the  clerks  in  the 
employ  of  the  government,  as  the  pope  is  infallible  for  good 
Catholics.  Something  of  his  peculiar  radiance  invests  every- 
thing he  does  or  says,  or  that  is  said  or  done  in  his  name ; 
the  robe  of  office  covers  everything  and  legalizes  everything 
done  by  his  orders ;  does  not  his  very  title — his  excellency — 
vouch  for  the  purity  of  his  intentions  and  the  righteousness  of 
his  will,  and  serve  as  a  sort  of  passport  and  introduction  to  ideas 
that  otherwise  would  not  be  entertained  for  a  moment  ?  Pro- 
nounce the  words  "his  excellency,"  and  these  poor  folk  will 
forthwith  proceed  to  do  what  they  would  not  do  for  their  own 
interests.  Passive  obedience  is  as  well  known  in  a  govern- 
ment department  as  in  the  army  itself;  and  the  administrative 
system  silences  consciences,  annihilates  the  individual,  and 
ends  (give  it  time  enough)  by  fashioning  a  man  into  a  vice  or 
a  thumbscrew,  and  he  becomes  part  of  the  machinery  of  gov- 
ernment.    Wherefore,  M.  Gondureau,  who  seemed  to  know 


176  FATHER    GORIOT. 

something  of  human  nature,  recognized  Poiret  at  once  as  one 
of  these  dupes  of  officialdom,  and  brought  out  for  his  benefit, 
at  the  proper  moment,  the  deus  ex  tnachina,  the  magical  words 
"  his  excellency,"  so  as  to  dazzle  Poiret  just  as  he  himself  un- 
masked his  batteries,  for  he  took  Poiret  and  the  Michonneau 
for  the  male  and  female  of  the  same  species. 

"  If  his  excellency  himself,  his  excellency  the  minister 

Ah  !  that  is  quite  another  thing,"  said  Poiret. 

"  You  seem  to  be  guided  by  this  gentleman's  opinion,  and 
you  hear  what  he  says,"  said  the  man  of  independent  means, 
addressing  Mile.  Michonneau.  "  Very  well,  his  excellency  is 
at  this  moment  absolutely  certain  that  the  so-called  Vautrin, 
who  lodges  at  the  Maison  Vauquer,  is  a  convict  who  escaped 
from  penal  servitude  at  Toulon,  where  he  is  known  by  the 
nickname  Trompe-la-Mort." 

"  Trompe-la-Mort  ?  "  said  Poiret.  "  Dear  me,  he  is  very 
lucky  if  he  deserves  that  nickname." 

"Well,  yes,"  said  the  detective.  "  They  call  him  so  be- 
cause he  has  been  so  lucky  as  not  to  lose  his  life  in  the  very 
risky  businesses  that  he  has  carried  through.  He  is  a  danger- 
ous man,  you  see  !  He  has  qualities  that  are  out  of  the  com- 
mon ;  the  thing  he  is  wanted  for,  in  fact,  was  a  matter  which 
gained  him  no  end  of  credit  with  his  own  set " 

'•Then  he  is  a  man  of  honor?"  asked  Poiret. 

"  Yes,  according  to  his  notions.  He  agreed  to  take  another 
man's  crime  upon  himself — a  forgery  committed  by  a  very 
handsome  young  fellow  that  he  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to,  a 
young  Italian,  a  bit  of  a  gambler,  who  has  since  gone  into  the 
army,  where  his  conduct  has  been  unexceptionable." 

"  But  if  his  excellency  the  minister  of  police  is  certain 
that  M.  Vautrin  is  this  Trompe-la-Mort,  why  should  he  want 
me?"  asked  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Poiret,  "  if  the  minister,  as  you  have 
been  so  obliging  as  to  tell  us,  really  knows  for  a  certainty 
that " 


FATHER  GO  RIOT.  177 

"  Certainty  is  not  the  word  ;  he  only  suspects.  You  will 
soon  understand  how  things  are.  Jacques  Collin,  nicknamed 
Trompe-la-Mort,  is  in  the  confidence  of  every  convict  in  the 
three  prisons ;  he  is  their  man  of  business  and  their  banker. 
He  makes  a  very  good  thing  out  of  managing  their  affairs, 
which  want  a  man  of  mark  to  see  about  them." 

"Ha!  ha!  do  you  see  the  pun,  mademoiselle?"  asked 
Poiret.  "  This  gentleman  calls  him  a  man  of  mark  because 
he  is  a  marked  man — branded,  you  know." 

"This  so-called  Vautrin,"  said  the  detective,  "receives 
the  money  belonging  to  my  lords  the  convicts,  invests  it  for 
them,  and  holds  it  at  the  disposal  of  those  who  escape,  or 
hands  it  over  to  their  families  if  they  leave  a  will,  or  to  their 
mistresses  when  they  draw  upon  him  for  their  benefit." 

"Their  mistresses!  You  mean  their  wives,"  remarked 
Poiret. 

"  No,  sir.  A  convict's  wife  is  usually  an  illegitimate  con- 
nection.    We  call  them  concubines." 

"Then  they  all  live  in  a  state  of  concubinage?" 

"Naturally." 

"Why,  these  are  abominations  that  his  excellency  ought 
not  to  allow.  Since  you  have  the  honor  of  seeing  his  excel- 
lency, you,  who  seem  to  have  philanthropic  ideas,  ought 
really  to  enlighten  him  as  to  their  immoral  conduct — they  are 
setting  a  shocking  example  to  the  rest  of  society." 

"  But  the  government  does  not  hold  them  up  as  models  of 
all  the  virtues,  my  dear  sir." 

"  Of  course  not,  sir  ;  but  still " 

"Just  let  the  gentleman  say  what  he  has  to  say,  dearie," 
said  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"You  see  how  it  is,  mademoiselle,"  Gondureau  continued. 
"  The  government  may  have  the  strongest  reasons  for  getting 
this  illicit  hoard  into  its  hands;  it  mounts  up  to  something 
considerable,  by  all  that  we  can  make  out.  Trompe-la-Mort 
not  only  holds  very  large  sums  for  his  friends  the  convicts, 
12 


178  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

but  he  has  other  amounts  which  are  paid  over  to  him  by  the 
Society  of  the  Ten  Thousand " 

"Ten  Thousand  Thieves!"  cried  Poiret  at  this,  in  the 
utmost  alarm. 

"  No.  The  Society  of  the  Ten  Thousand  is  not  an  associa- 
tion of  petty  offenders,  but  of  people  who  set  about  their 
work  on  a  large  scale — they  won't  touch  a  matter  unless  there 
are  ten  thousand  francs  in  it.  It  is  composed  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  the  men  who  are  sent  straight  to  the  assize 
courts  when  they  come  up  for  trial.  They  know  the  Code 
too  well  to  risk  their  necks  when  they  are  nabbed.  Collin  is 
their  confidential  agent  and  legal  adviser.  By  means  of  the 
large  sums  of  money  at  his  disposal  he  has  established  a  sort 
of  detective  system  of  his  own  j  it  is  widespread,  and  mysteri- 
ous in  its  workings.  We  have  had  spies  all  about  him  for  a 
twelvemonth,  and  yet  we  could  not  manage  to  fathom  his 
games.  His  capital  and  his  cleverness  are  at  the  service  of 
vice  and  crime  ;  this  money  furnishes  the  necessary  funds  for 
a  regular  army  of  blackguards  in  his  pay  who  wage  incessant 
war  against  society.  If  we  can  catch  Trompe-la-Mort,  and 
take  possession  of  his  funds,  we  should  strike  at  the  root  of 
this  evil.  So  this  job  is  a  kind  of  government  affair — a  state 
secret — and  likely  to  redound  to  the  honor  of  those  who  bring 
the  thing  to  a  successful  conclusion.  You,  sir,  for  instance, 
might  very  well  be  taken  into  a  government  department 
again  ;  they  might  make  you  secretary  to  a  commissary  of 
police  ;  you  could  accept  that  post  without  prejudice  to  your 
retiring  pension." 

Mile.  Michonneau  interposed  at  this  point  with,  "  Wliat  is 
there  to  hinder  Trompe-la-Mort  from  making  off  with  the 
money?" 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  detective,  "  aman  is  told  off  to  follow  him 
everywhere  he  goes,  with  orders  to  kill  him  if  he  were  to  rob 
the  convicts.  Then  it  is  not  quite  as  easy  to  make  off  with  a 
lot  of  money  as  it  is  to  run  away  with  a  young  lady  of  family. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  179 

Besides,  Collin  is  not  the  sort  of  fellow  to  play  such  a  trick ; 
he  would  be  disgraced,  according  to  his  notions." 

"You  are  quite  right,  sir,"  said  Poiret,  "utterly  disgraced 
he  would  be." 

"  But  none  of  all  this  explains  why  you  do  not  come  and 
take  him  without  more  ado,"  remarked  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"Very  well,  mademoiselle,  I  will  explain — but,"  he  added 
in  her  ear,  "  keep  your  companion  quiet,  or  I  shall  never  have 
done.  The  old  boy  ought  to  pay  people  handsomely  for 
listening  to  him.  Trompe-la-Mort,  when  he  came  back  here," 
he  went  on  aloud,  "slipped  into  the  skin  of  an  honest  man; 
he  turned  up  disguised  as  a  decent  Parisian  citizen,  and  took 
up  his  quarters  in  an  unpretending  lodging-house.  He  is 
cunning,  that  he  is!  You  won't  catch  him  napping.  Then 
M.  Vautrin  is  a  man  of  consequeuce,  who  transacts  a  good 
deal  of  business." 

"Naturally,"  said  Poiret  to  himself. 

"And  suppose  that  the  minister  were  to  make  a  mistake 
and  get  hold  of  the  real  Vautrin,  he  would  put  every  one's 
back  up  among  the  business  men  in  Paris,  and  public  opinion 
would  be  against  him.  M.  le  prefet  de  police  is  on  slippery 
ground  ;  he  has  enemies.  They  would  take  advantage  of  any 
mistake.  There  would  be  a  fine  outcry  and  fuss  made  by  the 
Opposition,  and  he  would  be  sent  packing.  We  must  set 
about  this  just  as  we  did  about  the  Cogniard  affair,  the  sham 
Comte  de  Sainte-Helene ;  if  he  had  been  the  real  Comte  de 
Sainte-Helene,  we  should  have  been  in  the  wrong  box.  We 
want  to  be  quite  sure  what  we  are  about." 

"  Yes,  but  what  you  want  is  a  pretty  woman,"  said  Mile. 
Michonneau  briskly. 

"  Trompe-la-Mort  would  not  let  a  woman  come  near  him," 
said  the  detective.  "  I  will  tell  you  a  secret — he  does  not 
like  them." 

"  Still,  I  do  not  see  what  I  can  do,  supposing  that  I  did 
agree  to  identify  him  for  two  thousand  francs." 


180  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"  Nothing  simpler,"  said  the  stranger.  **  I  will  send  you  a 
little  bottle  containing  a  dose  that  will  send  a  rush  of  blood 
to  the  head ;  it  will  do  him  no  harm  whatever,  but  he  will  fall 
down  as  if  he  were  in  a  fit.  The  drug  can  be  put  into  wine 
or  coffee ;  either  will  do  equally  well.  You  carry  your  man 
to  bed  at  once,  and  undress  him  to  see  that  he  is  not  dying. 
As  soon  as  you  are  alone,  you  give  him  a  slap  on  the  shoulder, 
and,  presto  /  the  letters  will  appear." 

"  Why,  that  is  just  nothing  at  all,"  said  Poiret,  very 
complacently. 

"Well,  do  you  agree?"  said  Gondureau,  addressing  the 
old  maid. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  suppose  there  are  no  letters  at  all,"  said 
Mile.  Michonneau ;  am  I  to  have  the  two  thousand  francs  all 
the  same?  " 

"No." 

**  What  will  you  give  me,  then?  " 

**  Five  hundred  francs." 

"It  is  quite  a  thing  to  do  for  so  little !  It  lies  on  your 
conscience  just  the  same,  and  I  must  quiet  my  conscience, 
sir." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Poiret,  "that  mademoiselle  has  a 
great  deal  of  conscience,  and  not  only  so,  she  is  a  very  amiable 
person,  and  very  intelligent." 

"  Well,  now,"  Mile.  Michonneau  went  on,  "  make  it  three 
thousand  francs  if  he  is  Trompe-la-Mort,  and  nothing  at  all 
if  he  is  an  ordinary  man." 

"Done!"  said  Gondureau,  "but  on  condition  that  the 
thing  is  settled  to-morrow." 

"  Not  quite  so  soon,  my  dear  sir;  I  must  consult  my  con- 
fessor first." 

"You  are  a  sly  one,"  said  the  detective  as  he  rose  to  his 
feet.  "  Good-by  till  to-morrow,  then.  And  if  you  should 
want  to  see  me  in  a  hurry,  go  to  the  Petite  Rue  Sainte-Anne 
at  the  bottom  of  the  Cour  de  la  Sainte-Chapelle.     There  is 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  181 

only  one  door  under  the  archway.  Ask  there  for  M. 
Gondureau." 

Bianchon,  on  his  way  back  from  Cuvier's  lecture,  overheard 
the  sufficiently  striking  nickname  of  Trompe-la-Mort ,  and 
caught  the  celebrated  chief  detective's  **  Done  T^ 

"Why  didn't  you  close  with  him?  It  would  be  three 
hundred  francs  a  year,"  said  Poiiet  to  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"  Why  didn't  I?"  she  asked.  "  Why,  it  wants  thinking 
over.  Suppose  that  M.  Vautrin  is  this  Trompe-la-Mort, 
perhaps  we  might  do  better  for  ourselves  with  him.  Still,  on 
the  other  hand,  if  you  ask  him  for  money,  it  would  put  him 
on  his  guard,  and  he  is  just  the  man  to  clear  out  without 
paying,  and  that  would  be  an  abominable  sell." 

**  And  suppose  you  did  warn  him,"  Poiret  went  on,  "didn't 
that  gentleman  say  that  he  was  closely  watched  ?  You  would 
spoil  everything." 

"Anyhow,"  thought  Mile.  Michonneau,  "I  can't  abide 
him.     He  says  nothing  but  disagreeable  things  to  me." 

"But  you  can  do  better  than  that,"  Poiret  resumed.  "As 
that  gentleman  said  (and  he  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  very  good 
sort  of  man,  besides  being  very  well  got  up),  it  is  an  act  of 
obedience  to  the  laws  to  rid  society  of  a  criminal,  however 
virtuous  he  may  be.  Once  a  thief,  always  a  thief.  Suppose 
he  were  to  take  it  into  his  head  to  murder  us  all  ?  The  deuce  ! 
We  should  be  guilty  of  manslaughter,  and  be  the  first  to  fall 
victims  into  the  bargain  !  " 

Mile.  Michonneau'  s  musings  did  not  permit  her  to  listen 
very  closely  to  the  remarks  that  fell  one  by  one  from  Poiret's 
lips  like  water  dripping  from  a  leaky  tap.  When  once  this 
elderly  babbler  began  to  talk,  he  would  go  on  like  clockwork 
unless  Mile.  Michonneau  stopped  him.  He  started  on  some 
subject  or  other,  and  wandered  on  through  parenthesis  after 
parenthesis  till  he  came  to  regions  as  remote  as  possible  from 
his  premises  without  coming  to  any  conclusions  by  the  way. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  Maison  Vauquer  he  had  tacked 


182  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

together  a  whole  string  of  examples  and  quotations  more  or 
less  irrelevant  to  the  subject  in  hand,  which  led  him  to  give  a 
full  account  of  his  own  deposition  in  the  case  of  the  Sieur 
Ragoulleau  versus  Dame  Morin,  when  he  had  been  summoned 
as  a  witness  for  the  defense. 

As  they  entered  the  dining-room,  Eugene  de  Rastignac  was 
talking  apart  with  Mile.  Taillefer ;  the  conversation  appeared 
to  be  of  such  thrilling  interest  that  the  pair  never  noticed  the 
two  older  lodgers  as  they  passed  through  the  room.  None  of 
this  was  thrown  away  on  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"I  knew  how  it  would  end,"  remarked  that  lady,  address- 
ing Poiret.  "  They  have  been  making  eyes  at  each  other  in 
a  heart-rending  way  for  a  week  past." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.     "  So  she  was  found  guilty." 

"Who?" 

"  Mme.  Morin." 

"I  am  talking  about  Mile.  Victorine,"  said  Mile.  Michon- 
neau, as  she  entered  Poiret's  room  with  an  absent  air,  "and 
you  answer,  '  Mme.  Morin.'     Who  may  Mme.  Morin  be?" 

"What  can  Mile.  Victorine  be  guilty  of?"  demanded 
Poiret. 

"  Guilty  of  falling  in  love  with  M.  Eugene  de  Rastignac, 
and  going  farther  and  farther  without  knowing  exactly  where 
she  is  going,  poor  innocent !  " 

That  morning  Mme.  de  Nucingen  had  driven  Eugene  to 
despair.  In  his  own  mind  he  had  completely  surrendered 
himself  to  Vautrin,  and  deliberately  shut  his  eyes  to  the  mo- 
tive for  the  friendship  which  that  extraordinary  man  professed 
for  him,  nor  would  he  look  to  the  consequences  of  such  an 
alliance.  Nothing  short  of  a  miracle  could  extricate  him  now 
out  of  the  gulf  into  which  he  had  walked  an  hour  ago,  when 
he  exchanged  vows  in  the  softest  whispers  with  Mile.  Taillefer. 
To  Victorine  it  seemed  as  if  she  heard  an  angel's  voice,  that 
heaven  was  opening  above  her;    the  Maison  Vauquer  took 


■■^' 


■V.' 


■•) 


-.■,:4 


Vautrin  came  in  in  high  spirits. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  183 

Strange  and  wonderful  hues,  like  a  stage  fairy  palace.  She 
loved  and  she  was  beloved  \  at  any  rate,  she  believed  that  she 
was  loved  ;  and  what  woman  would  not  likewise  have  believed 
after  seeing  Rastignac's  face  and  listening  to  the  tones  of  his 
voice  during  that  hour  snatched  under  the  argus  eyes  of  the 
Maison  Vauquer?  He  had  trampled  on  his  conscience;  he 
knew  that  he  was  doing  wrong,  and  did  it  deliberately  \  he 
had  said  to  himself  that  a  woman's  happiness  should  atone 
for  this  venial  sin.  The  energy  of  desperation  had  lent  new 
beauty  to  his  face ;  the  lurid  fire  that  burned  in  his  heart 
shone  from  his  eyes.  Luckily  for  him,  the  miracle  took  place. 
Vautrin  came  in  in  high  spirits,  and  at  once  read  the  hearts 
of  these  two  young  creatures  whom  he  had  brought  together 
by  the  combinations  of  his  infernal  genius,  but  his  deep  voice 
broke  in  upon  their  bliss. 

"A  charming  girl  is  my  Fanchette 
In  her  simplicity ^^ 

he  sang  mockingly. 

Victorine  fled.  Her  heart  was  more  full  than  it  had  ever 
been,  but  it  was  full  of  joy,  and  not  of  sorrow.  Poor  child  ! 
A  pressure  of  the  hand,  the  light  touch  of  Rastignac's  hair 
against  her  cheek,  a  word  whispered  in  her  ear  so  closely  that 
she  felt  the  student's  warm  breath  on  her,  the  pressure  of  a 
trembling  arm  about  her  waist,  a  kiss  upon  her  throat — such 
had  been  her  betrothal.  The  near  neighborhood  of  the  stout 
Sylvie,  who  might  invade  that  glorified  room  at  any  moment, 
only  made  these  first  tokens  of  love  more  ardent,  more  elo- 
quent, more  entrancing  than  the  noblest  deeds  done  for  love's 
sake  in  the  most  famous  romances.  This  plain-song  of  love, 
to  use  the  pretty  expression  of  our  forefathers,  seemed  almost 
criminal  to  the  devout  young  girl  who  went  to  confession 
every  fortnight.  In  that  one  hour  she  had  poured  out  more 
of  the  treasures  of  her  soul  than  she  could  give  in  later  days 
of  wealth  and  happiness,  when  her  whole  self  followed  the 
gift. 


184  FATHER    GORIOr. 

"The  thing  is  arranged,"  Vautrin  said  to  Eugene,  who 
remained.  "Our  two  dandies  have  fallen  out.  Everything 
was  done  in  proper  form.  It  is  a  matter  of  opinion.  Our 
pigeon  has  insulted  my  hawk.  They  will  meet  to-morrow  in 
the  redoubt  at  Clignancourt.  By  half-past  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing Mile.  Taillefer,  calmly  dipping  her  bread  and  butter  in 
her  coffee-cup,  will  be  sole  heiress  of  her  father's  fortune  and 
affections.  A  funny  way  of  putting  it,  isn't  it?  Taillefer's 
youngster  is  an  expert  swordsman,  and  quite  cocksure  about 
it,  but  he  will  be  bled  ;  I  have  just  invented  a  thrust  for  his 
benefit,  a  way  of  raising  your  sword-point  and  driving  it  at 
the  forehead.  I  must  show  you  that  thrust ;  it  is  an  uncom- 
monly handy  thing  to  know." 

Rastignac  heard  him  in  dazed  bewilderment ;  he  could  not 
find  a  word  in  reply.  Just  then  Goriot  came  in,  and  Bianchon 
and  a  few  of  the  boarders  likewise  appeared. 

"  That  is  just  as  I  intended,"  Vautrin  said.  "  You  know 
quite  well  what  you  are  about.  Good,  my  little  eaglet  !  You 
are  born  to  command,  you  are  strong,  you  stand  firm  on  your 
feet,  you  are  game  !     I  respect  you." 

He  made  as  though  he  would  take  Eugene's  hand,  but  Ras- 
tignac hastily  withdrew  it,  sank  into  a  chair,  and  turned 
ghastly  pale ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  a  sea  of  blood 
before  his  eyes. 

"  Oh  !  so  we  have  still  a  few  dubious  tatters  of  the  swad- 
dling-clothes of  virtue  about  us  !  "  murmured  Vautrin.  "  But 
Papa  Doliban  has  three  millions  ;  I  know  the  amount  of  his 
fortune.  Once  have  her  dowry  in  your  hands,  and  your  char- 
acter will  be  as  white  as  the  bride's  white  dress,  even  in  your 
own  eyes." 

Rastignac  hesitated  no  longer.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  would  go  that  evening  to  warn  the  Taillefers,  father  and 
son.  But  just  as  Vautrin  left  him.  Father  Goriot  came  up 
and  said  in  his  ear,  "You  look  melancholy,  my  boy;  I  will 
cheer  you  up.     Come  with  me." 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  185 

The  old  vermicelli-dealer  lighted  his  dip  at  one  of  the 
lamps  as  he  spoke.  Eugene  went  with  him,  his  curiosity  had 
been  aroused. 

"Let  us  go  up  to  your  room,"  the  worthy  soul  remarked, 
when  he  had  asked  Sylvie  for  the  law-student's  key.  "  This 
morning,"  he  resumed,  "you  thought  that  jAi?  did  not  care 
about  you,  did  you  not,  eh  ?  She  would  have  nothing  to  say 
to  you,  and  you  went  away  out  of  humor  and  out  of  heart. 
Stuff  and  rubbish  !  She  wanted  you  to  go  because  she  was 
expecting  me  .'  Now  do  you  understand  ?  We  were  to  com- 
plete the  arrangements  for  taking  some  chambers  for  you,  a 
jewel  of  a  place,  you  are  to  move  into  it  in  three  days'  time. 
Don't  split  upon  me.  She  wants  it  to  be  a  surprise  ;  but  I 
couldn't  bear  to  keep  the  secret  from  you.  You  will  be  in 
the  Rue  d'Artois,  only  a  step  or  two  from  the  Rue  Saint- 
Lazare,  and  you  are  to  be  housed  like  a  prince  !  Any  one 
might  have  thought  we  were  furnishing  the  house  for  a  bride. 
Oh  !  we  have  done  a  lot  of  things  in  the  last  month,  and  you 
knew  nothing  about  it.  My  attorney  has  appeared  on  the 
scene,  and  my  daughter  is  to  have  thirty-six  thousand  francs  a 
year,  the  interest  on  her  money,  and  I  shall  insist  on  having 
her  eight  hundred  thousand  francs  invested  in  sound  securi- 
ties, landed  property  that  won't  run  away." 

Eugene  was  dumb.  He  folded  his  arms  and  paced  up  and 
down  his  cheerless,  untidy  room.  Father  Goriot  waited  till 
the  student's  back  was  turned,  and  seized  the  opportunity 
to  go  to  the  chimney-piece  and  set  upon  it  a  little  red  morocco 
case  with  Rastignac's  arms  stamped  in  gold  on  the  leather. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  kind  soul,  "I  have  been  up  to 
the  eyes  in  this  business.  You  see,  there  was  plenty  of  selfish- 
ness on  my  part ;  I  have  an  interested  motive  in  helping  you 
to  change  lodgings.  You  will  not  refuse  me  if  I  ask  you 
something;  will  you,  eh?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"  There  is  a  room  on  the  fifth  floor,  up  above  your  rooms. 


186  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

that  is  to  let  along  with  them ;  that  is  where  I  am  going  to  live, 
isn't  that  so  ?  I  am  getting  old  ;  I  am  too  far  from  my  girls. 
I  shall  not  be  in  the  way,  but  I  shall  be  there,  that  is  all. 
You  will  come  and  talk  to  me  about  her  every  evening.  It 
will  not  put  you  about,  will  it  ?  I  shall  have  gone  to  bed 
before  you  come  in,  but  I  shall  hear  you  come  up,  and 
I  shall  say  to  myself,  '  He  has  just  seen  my  little  Delphine. 
He  has  been  to  a  dance  with  her,  and  she  is  happy,  thanks 
to  him.'  If  I  were  ill,  it  would  do  my  heart  good  to 
hear  you  moving  about  below,  to  know  when  you  leave 
the  house  and  when  you  come  in.  It  is  only  a  step  to 
the  Champs-Elysees,  where  they  go  every  day,  so  I  shall  be 
sure  of  seeing  them,  whereas  now  I  am  sometimes  too  late. 
And  then — perhaps  she  may  come  to  see  you  !  I  shall  hear 
her,  I  shall  see  her  in  her  soft  quilted  pelisse  tripping  about  as 
daintily  as  a  kitten.  In  this  one  month  she  has  become  my 
little  girl  again,  so  light-hearted  and  gay.  Her  soul  is  recov- 
ering, and  her  happiness  is  owing  to  you.  Oh  !  I  would  do 
impossibilities  for  you.  Only  just  now  she  said  to  me,  '  I  am 
very  happy,  papa  ! '  When  they  say  *  father '  stiffly,  it  sends 
a  chill  through  me;  but  when  they  call  me  'papa,'  it  is  as  if 
they  were  little  girls  again,  and  it  brings  all  the  old  memories 
back.  I  feel  most  their  father  then ;  I  even  believe  that 
they  belong  to  me,  and  to  no  one  else." 

The  good  man  wiped  his  eyes,  he  was  crying. 

**  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  have  heard  them  talk  like  that, 
a  long,  long  time  since  she  took  my  arm  as  she  did  to-day. 
Yes,  indeed,  it  must  be  quite  ten  years  since  I  walked  side  by 
side  with  one  of  my  girls.  How  pleasant  it  was  to  keep  step 
with  her,  to  feel  the  touch  of  her  gown,  the  warmth  of  her 
arm  !  Well,  I  took  Delphine  everywhere  this  morning ;  I 
went  shopping  with  her,  and  I  brought  her  home  again.  Oh  ! 
you  must  let  me  live  near  you.  You  may  want  some  one  to 
do  you  a  service  some  of  these  days,  and  I  shall  be  on  the 
spot  to  do  it.     Oh !  if  only  that  great  dolt  of  an  Alsatian 


FATHER    GORIOT.  187 

would  die,  if  his  gout  would  have  the  sense  to  attack  his 
stomach,  how  happy  ray  poor  child  would  be  !  You  would  be 
my  son-in-law;  you  would  be  her  husband  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  Bah  !  she  has  known  no  happiness,  that  excuses  every- 
thing. Our  Father  in  heaven  is  surely  on  the  side  of  fathers 
on  earth  who  love  their  children.  How  fond  of  you  she  is  !  " 
he  said,  raising  his  head  after  a  pause.  "All  the  time  we 
were  going  about  together  .she  chatted  away  about  you. 
'He  is  nice-looking,  papa;  isn't  he?  He  is  kind-hearted! 
Does  he  talk  to  you  about  me?*  Pshaw!  she  said  enough 
about  you  to  fill  whole  volumes;  between  the  Rue  d'Artois 
and  the  Passage  des  Panoramas  she  poured  her  heart  out  into 
mine.  I  did  not  feel  old  once  during  that  delightful  morn- 
ing ;  I  felt  as  light  as  a  feather.  I  told  her  how  you  had 
given  that  bank-note  to  me ;  it  moved  my  darling  to  tears. 
But  what  can  this  be  on  your  chimney-piece  !  "  said  Father 
Goriot  at  last.  Rastignac  had  showed  no  sign,  and  he  was 
dying  of  impatience. 

Eugene  stared  at  his  neighbor  in  dumb  and  dazed  bewilder- 
ment. He  thought  of  Vautrin,  of  that  duel  to  be  fought  to- 
morrow morning,  and  of  this  realization  of  his  dearest  hopes, 
and  the  violent  contrast  between  the  two  sets  of  ideas  gave 
him  all  the  sensations  of  nightmare.  He  went  to  the  chimney- 
piece,  saw  the  little  square  case,  opened  it,  and  found  a  watch 
of  Brdguet's  make  wrapped  in  paper,  on  which  these  words 
were  written : 

"  I  want  you  to  think  of  me  every  hour,  because 

"  Delphine." 

That  last  word  doubtless  contained  an  allusion  to  some 
scene  that  had  taken  place  between  them.  Eugene  felt 
touched.  Inside  the  gold  watch-case  his  arms  had  been 
wrought  in  enamel.  The  chain,  the  key,  the  workmanship, 
and  design  of  the  trinket  were  all  such  as  he  had  imagined, 


188  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

for  he  had  long  coveted  such  a  possession.  Father  Goriot 
was  radiant.  Of  course  he  had  promised  to  tell  his  daughter 
every  little  detail  of  the  scene  and  of  the  effect  produced 
upon  Eugene  by  her  present ;  he  shared  in  the  pleasure  and 
excitement  of  the  young  people,  and  seemed  to  be  not  the 
least  happy  of  the  three.  He  loved  Rastignac  already  for  his 
own  as  well  as  for  his  daughter's  sake. 

"You  must  go  and  see  her;  she  is  expecting  you  this 
evening.  That  great  lout  of  an  Alsatian  is  going  to  have 
supper  with  his  opera-dancer.  Aha !  he  looked  very  foolish 
when  my  attorney  let  him  know  where  he  was.  He  says  he 
idolizes  my  daughter,  does  he  ?  He  had  better  let  her  alone, 
or  I  will  kill  him.  To  think  that  my  Delphine  is  his  " — he 
heaved  a  sigh — **  it  is  enough  to  make  me  murder  him,  but  it 
would  not  be  manslaughter  to  kill  that  animal ;  he  is  a  pig 
with  a  calfs  brains.  You  will  take  me  with  you,  will  you 
not?" 

"  Yes,  dear  Father  Goriot;  you  know  very  well  how  fond 
I  am  of  you " 

'*  Yes,  I  do  know  very  well.  You  are  not  ashamed  of  me, 
are  you  !  Not  you  !  Let  me  embrace  you,"  and  he  flung  his 
arms  round  the  student's  neck. 

"  You  will  make  her  very  happy ;  promise  me  that  you 
will  !     You  will  go  to  her  this  evening,  will  you  not? " 

"Oh  !  yes.  I  must  go  out ;  I  have  some  urgent  business 
on  hand." 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  use  ?  " 

"  My  word,  yes  !  Will  you  go  to  old  Taillefer's  while  I 
go  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen.  Ask  him  to  make  an  appointment 
with  me  some  time  this  evening  ;  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and 
death." 

"  Really,  young  man  !  "  cried  Father  Goriot,  with  a  change 
of  countenance;  "are  you  really  paying  court  to  his  daugh- 
ter, as  those  simpletons  were  saying  down  below  ? Ton- 

nerre  de  Dieu  /  you  have  no  notion  what  a  tap  a  la  Goriot  is 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  189 

like,  and  if  you  are  playing  a  double  game,  I  shall  put  a 

stop  to  it  by  one  blow  of  the  fist Oh  !  the  thing  is 

impossible !" 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  I  love  but  one  woman  in  the  world," 
said  the  student.     "  I  only  knew  it  a  moment  ago." 

"  Oh  !  what  happiness  !  "  cried  Goriot. 

"  But  young  Tai liefer  has  been  called  out ;  the  duel  comes 
off  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  have  heard  it  said  that  he  may 
lose  his  life  in  it." 

"  But  what  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  "  said  Goriot. 

"  Why,  I  ought  to  tell  him  so,  that  he  may  prevent  his  son 
from  putting  in  an  appearance " 

Just  at  that  moment  Vautrin's  voice  broke  in  upon  them  ; 
he  was  standing  at  the  threshold  of  his  door  and  singing — 

"  Oh  !  Richard,  oh  my  king  ! 
All  the  world  abandons  thee  ! 
Broum  !  broum  !  broum  !  broum  !  broum  ! 

"  734^  same  old  story  everywhere, 
A  roving  heart  and  a tra  la  la." 

"Gentlemen!"  shouted  Christophe,  "the  soup  is  ready, 
and  every  one  is  waiting  for  you." 

*'  Here,"  Vautrin  called  down  to  him,  "come  and  take  a 
bottle  of  my  Bordeaux." 

"Do  you  think  your  watch  is  pretty?"  asked  Goriot, 
"  She  has  good  taste,  hasn't  she,  eh  ?  " 

Vautrin,  Father  Goriot,  and  Rastignac  came  downstairs  in 
company,  and,  all  three  of  them  being  late,  were  obliged  to 
sit  together. 

Eugene  was  as  distant  as  possible  in  his  manner  to  Vautrin 
during  dinner ;  but  the  other,  so  charming  in  Mme.  Vauquer's 
opinion,  had  never  been  so  witty.  His  lively  sallies  and 
sparkling  talk  put  the  whole  table  in  good-humor.  His 
assurance  and  great  coolness  filled  Eugene  with  the  utmost 
consternation. 


190  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"Why,  what  has  come  to  you  to-day?"  inquired  Mme. 
Vauquer.     "  You  are  as  merry  as  a  skylark." 

"  I  am  always  in  spirits  after  I  have  made  a  good  bargain." 

**  Bargain  ?  "  asked  Eugene. 

"Well,  yes,  bargain.  I  have  just  delivered  a  lot  of  goods, 
and  I  shall  be  paid  a  handsome  commission  on  them.  Mile. 
Michonneau,"  he  went  on,  seeing  that  the  elderly  spinster 
was  scrutinizing  him  intently,  "have  you  any  objection  to 
some  feature  in  my  face,  that  you  are  making  those  lynx-eyes 
at  me  ?    Just   let   me  know,  and   I  will  have  it  changed  to 

oblige   you We  shall   not  fall   out   about   it,  Poiret,  I 

daresay?  "  he  added,  winking  at  the  superannuated  clerk. 

"Bless  my  soul,  you  ought  to  stand  as  model  for  a  bur- 
lesque Hercules,"  said  the  young  painter. 

"  I  will,  upon  my  word  !  if  Mile.  Michonneau  will  consent 
to  sit  as  the  Venus  of  Pdre-Lachaise,"  replied  Vautrin. 

"There's  Poiret,"  suggested  Bianchon. 

"  Oh !  Poiret  shall  pose  as  Poiret.  He  can  be  a  garden 
god  !  "  cried  Vautrin  ;   "  his  name  means  a  pear " 

"  A  sleepy  pear  !  "  Bianchon  put  in.  "  You  will  come  in 
between  the  pear  and  the  cheese." 

"What  stuff  you  are  all  talking!"  said  Mme.  Vauquer; 
**  you  would  do  better  to  treat  us  to  your  Bordeaux  ;  I  see  a 
glimpse  of  a  bottle  there.  It  would  keep  us  all  in  a  good- 
humor,  and  it  is  good  for  the  stomach  besides." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Vautrin,  "the  lady  president  calls  us 
to  order.  Mme.  Couture  and  Mile,  Victorine  will  take  your 
jokes  in  good  part,  but  respect  the  innocence  of  the  aged 
Goriot.  I  propose  a  glass  or  two  of  Bordeauxrama,  rendered 
twice  illustrious  by  the  name  of  Laffitte,  no  political  allusions 
intended.  Come,  you  Turk  !  "  he  added,  looking  at  Chris- 
tophe,  who  did  not  offer  to  stir.  "  Christophe  !  Here ! 
What,  you  don't  answer  to  your  own  name?  Bring  us  some 
liquor,  Turk!  " 

"  Here  it  is,  sir,"  said  Christophe,  holding  out  the  bottle. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  191 

Vautrin  filled  Eugene's  glass  and  Goriot's  likewise,  then  he 
deliberately  poured  out  a  few  drops  into  his  own  glass,  and 
sipped  it  while  his  two  neighbors  drank  their  wine.  All  at 
once  he  made  a  grimace. 

''  Corked  !  "  he  cried.  **  The  devil !  You  can  drink  the 
rest  of  this,  Christophe,  and  go  and  find  another  bottle; 
take  from  the  right-hand  side,  you  know.  There  are  sixteen 
of  us;  take  down  eight  bottles." 

*'  If  you  are  going  to  stand  treat,"  said  the  painter,  "  I  will 
pay  for  a  hundred  chestnuts." 

"Oh  !  oh!  " 

"Booououh!" 

"Prrrr  !  " 

These  exclamations  came  from  all  parts  of  the  table  like 
squibs  from  a  set  firework. 

"■  Come,  now,  Mamma  Vauquer,  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
champagne,"  called  Vautrin. 

"  Qiiien  !  just  like  you  !  Why  not  ask  for  the  whole  house 
at  once  ?  A  couple  of  bottles  of  champagne  ;  that  means 
twelve  francs  !  I  shall  never  see  the  money  back  again,  I 
know !  But  if  M.  Eugene  has  a  mind  to  pay  for  it,  I  have 
some  currant  cordial." 

**  That  currant  cordial  of  hers  is  as  bad  as  a  black  draught," 
muttered  the  medical  student. 

"Shut  up,  Bianchon,"  exclaimed  Rastignac;  "the  very 
mention  of  black  draught  makes  me  feel Yes,  cham- 
pagne, by  all  means  ;  I  will  pay  for  it,"  he  added. 

"  Sylvie,"  called  Mme.  Vauquer,  "bring  in  some  biscuits 
and  the  little  cakes." 

"Those  little  cakes  are  moldy  graybeards,"  said  Vautrin. 
"  But  trot  out  the  biscuits." 

The  Bordeaux  wine  circulated ;  the  dinner  table  became  a 
livelier  scene  than  ever,  and  the  fun  grew  fast  and  furious. 
Imitations  of  the  cries  of  various  animals  mingled  with  the 
loud  laughter;  the  Museum  official  having  taken  it  into  his 


192  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

head  to  mimic  a  cat-call  rather  like  the  caterwauling  of  the 
animal  in  question,  eight  voices  simultaneously  struck  up  with 
the  following  variations : 

"Scissors  to  grind  !  " 

**  Chick-weed  for  singing  bir-ds !  " 

"  Brandy-snaps,  ladies  !  " 

"  China  to  mend  !  " 

"Boat  ahoy!" 

"  Sticks  to  beat  your  wives  or  your  clothes  !  " 

"OldcloM" 

"  Cherries  all  ripe  !  " 

But  the  palm  was  awarded  to  Bianchon  for  the  nasal  accent 
with  which  he  rendered  the  cry  of  "  Umbrellas  to  me-end  !  " 

A  few  seconds  later,  and  there  was  a  head-splitting  racket 
in  the  room,  a  storm  of  tomfoolery,  a  sort  of  cats'  concert, 
with  Vautrin  as  conductor  of  the  orchestra,  the  latter  keeping 
an  eye  the  while  on  Eugene  and  Father  Goriot.  The  wine 
seemed  to  have  gone  to  their  heads  already.  They  leaned 
back  in  their  chairs,  looking  at  the  general  confusion  with  an 
air  of  gravity,  and  drank  but  little ;  both  of  them  were  ab- 
sorbed in  the  thought  of  what  lay  before  them  to  do  that 
evening,  and  yet  neither  of  them  felt  able  to  rise  and  go. 
Vautrin  gave  a  side  glance  at  them  from  time  to  time,  and 
watched  the  change  that  came  over  their  faces,  choosing  the 
moment  when  their  eyes  drooped  and  seemed  about  to  close 
to  bend  over  Rastignac  and  to  say  in  his  ear  : 

"  My  little  lad,  you  are  not  quite  shrewd  enough  to  outwit 
Papa  Vautrin  yet,  and  he  is  too  fond  of  you  to  let  you  make 
a  mess  of  your  affairs.  When  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
do  a  thing,  no  one  short  of  Providence  can  put  me  off. 
Aha  !  we  were  for  going  round  to  warn  old  Taillefer,  telling 
tales  out  of  school  !  The  oven  is  hot,  the  dough  is  kneaded, 
the  bread  is  ready  for  the  oven ;  to-morrow  we  will  eat  it  up 
and  whisk  away  the  crumbs  ;  and  we  are  not  going  to  spoil 
the  baking  ? No,  no,  it  is  all  as  good  as  done  !     We 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  193 

may  suffer  from  a  few  conscientious  scruples,  but  they  will  be 
digested  along  with  the  bread.  While  we  are  having  our 
forty  winks,  Colonel  Count  Franchessini  will  clear  the  way  to 
Michel  Taillefer's  inheritance  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 
Victorine  will  come  in  for  her  brother's  money,  a  snug  fifteen 
thousand  francs  a  year.  I  have  made  inquiries  already,  and 
I  know  that  her  late  mother's  property  amounts  to  more  than 
three  hundred  thousand " 

Eugene  heard  all  this,  and  could  not  answer  a  word ;  his 
tongue  seemed  to  be  glued  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  an  irre- 
sistible drowsiness  was  creeping  over  him.  He  still  saw  the 
table  and  the  faces  round  it,  but  it  was  through  a  bright  mist. 
Soon  the  noise  began  to  subside,  one  by  one  the  boarders 
went.  At  last,  when  their  numbers  had  so  dwindled  that  the 
party  consisted  of  Mme.  Vauquer,  Mme.  Couture,  Mile. 
Victorine,  Vautrin,  and  Father  Goriot,  Rastignac  watched  as 
though  in  a  dream  how  Mme.  Vauquer  busied  herself  by  col- 
lecting the  bottles,  and  drained  the  remainder  of  the  wine 
out  of  each  to  fill  others. 

"  Oh !  how  uproarious  they  are !  what  a  thing  it  is  to  be 
young !  "  said  the  widow. 

These  were  the  last  words  that  Eugene  heard  and  under- 
stood. 

"  There  is  no  one  like  M.  Vautrin  for  a  bit  of  fun  like 
this,"  said  Sylvie.  "There,  just  hark  at  Christophe,  he  is 
snoring  like  a  top." 

"Good-by,  mamma,"  said  Vautrin;  "I  am  going  to  a  theatre 
on  the  Boulevard  to  see  M.  Marty  in  'Le  Mont  Sauvage,'  a 

fine  play  taken  from  '  Le  Solitaire  * If  you  like,  I  will 

take  you  and  these  two  ladies " 

<*  Thank  you;  I  must  decline,"  said  Mme.  Couture. 

"  What !  my  good  lady  !  "  cried  Mme.  Vauquer,  "  decline 

to  see  a  play  founded  on  the  '  Le  Solitaire,'  a  work  by  Atala  de 

Chateaubriand.     We  were  so  fond  of  that  book  that  we  cried 

over  it  like  Magdalens  under  the  line  trees  last  summer,  and 

13 


IM  FATHER   GORIOT. 

then  it  is  an  improving  work  that  might  edify  your  young 
lady." 

**  We  are  forbidden  to  go  to  the  play,"  answered  Victo- 
rine. 

"Just  look,  those  two  yonder  have  dropped  off  where  they 
sit,"  said  Vautrin,  shaking  the  heads  of  the  two  sleepers  in  a 
comical  way. 

He  altered  the  sleeping  student's  position,  settled  his  head 
more  comfortably  on  the  back  of  his  chair,  kissed  him  warmly 
on  the  forehead,  and  began  to  sing — 

"Sleep,  little  darlings ; 
I  watch  while  you  slumber ^^ 

**  I  am  afraid  he  may  be  ill,"  said  Victorine. 

"  Then  stop  and  take  care  of  him,"  returned  Vautrin.  "  'Tis 
your  duty  as  a  meek  and  obedient  wife,"  he  whispered  in  her 
ear.  "  The  young  fellow  worships  you,  and  you  will  be  his 
little  wife — there's  your  fortune  for  you.  In  short,"  he  added 
aloud,  "  they  lived  happily  ever  afterwards,  were  much  looked 
up  to  in  all  the  countryside,  and  had  a  numerous  family. 
That  is  how  all  the  romances  end.  Now,  mamma,"  he  went 
on,  as  he  turned  to  Mme.  Vauquer  and  put  his  arm  round  her 
waist,  "put  on  your  bonnet,  your  best  flowered  silk,  and  the 
countess'  scarf,  while  I  go  out  to  call  a  cab^all  my  own- 
self." 

And  he  started  out,  singing  as  he  went — 

"  Oh  !  sun  !  divine  sun  ! 
Ripening  the  pumpkins  erery  one" 

*'  My  goodness  !  Well,  I'm  sure  !  Mme.  Couture,  I  could 
live  happily  in  a  garret  with  a  man  like  that !  There  now," 
she  added,  looking  round  for  the  old  vermicelli-maker,  "there 
is  that  Father  Goriot  half-seas  over.  He  never  thought  of 
taking  me  anywhere,  the  old  skinflint.     But  he  will  measure 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  196 

his  length  soniewhere.  My  word !  it  is  disgraceful  to  lose 
his  senses  like  that,  at  his  age  !  You  will  be  telling  me  that 
he  couldn't  lose  what  he  hadn't  got — Sylvie  !  just  take  him 
up  to  his  room  !  " 

Sylvie  took  him  by  the  arm,  supported  him  upstairs,  and 
flung  him,  just  as  he  was,  like  a  package,  across  the  bed. 

"Poor  young  fellow!"  said  Mme.  Couture,  putting  back 
Eugene's  hair  that  had  fallen  over  his  eyes;  he  is  like  a  young 
girl,  he  does  not  know  what  dissipation  is." 

**  Well,  I  can  tell  you  this,  I  know,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer, 
"I  have  taken  lodgers  these  thirty  years,  and  a  good  many 
have  passed  through  my  hands,  as  the  saying  is,  but  I  have 
never  seen  a  nicer  nor  a  more  aristocratic-looking  young  man 
than  M.  Eugene.  How  handsome  he  looks  sleeping  !  Just 
let  his  head  rest  on  your  shoulder,  Mme.  Couture.  Pshaw  ! 
he  falls  over  towards  Mile.  Victorine.  There's  a  special 
providence  for  young  things.  A  little  more,  and  he  would 
have  broken  his  head  against  the  knob  of  the  chair.  They'd 
make  a  pretty  pair,  those  two  would  I  " 

**  Hush  !  my  good  neighbor,"  cried  Mme.  Couture,  **  you 
are  saying  such  things " 

"  Pooh  !  "  put  in  Mme.  Vauquer,  "  he  does  not  hear. 
Here,  Sylvie  !  come  and  help  me  to  dress.  I  shall  put  on 
my  best  stays." 

"  What !  your  best  stays  just  after  dinner,  madame  ?  "  said 
Sylvie.  "  No,  you  can  get  some  one  else  to  lace  you.  I  am 
not  going  to  be  your  murderer.  It's  a  rash  thing  to  do,  and 
might  cost  you  your  life." 

"  I  don't  care,  I  must  do  honor  to  M.  Vautrin." 

*' Are  you  so  fond  of  your  heirs  as  all  that  ?  " 

"Come,  Sylvie,  don't  argue,"  said  the  widow,  as  she  left 
the  room. 

"At  her  age,  too  !  "  said  the  cook  to  Victorine,  pointing 
to  her  mistress  as  she  spoke. 

Mme.  Couture  and  her  ward  were  left  in  the  dining-room. 


196  FATHER   GORIOT. 

and  Eugene  slept  on  on  Victorine's  shoulder.  The  sound  of 
Christophe's  snoring  echoed  through  the  silent  house ; 
Eugene's  quiet  breathing  seemed  all  the  quieter  by  force  of 
contrast,  he  was  sleeping  as  peacefully  as  a  child.  Victorine 
was  very  happy ;  she  was  free  to  perform  one  of  those  acts  of 
charity  which  form  an  innocent  outlet  for  all  the  overflowing 
sentiments  of  a  woman's  nature ;  he  was  so  close  to  her  that 
she  could  feel  the  throbbing  of  his  heart ;  there  was  a  look  of 
almost  maternal  protection  and  a  conscious  pride  in  Victorine's 
face.  Among  the  countless  thoughts  that  crowded  up  in  her 
young  innocent  heart,  there  was  a  wild  flutter  of  joy  at  this 
close  contact. 

"Poor,  dear  child  !"  said  Mme.  Couture,  squeezing  her 
hand. 

The  old  lady  looked  at  the  girl.  Victorine's  innocent, 
pathetic  face,  so  radiant  with  the  new  happiness  that  had 
befallen  her,  called  to  mind  some  naive  work  of  mediaeval  art, 
when  the  painter  neglected  the  accessories,  reserving  all  the 
magic  of  his  brush  for  the  quiet,  austere  outlines  and  ivory 
tints  of  the  face,  which  seems  to  have  caught  something  of 
the  golden  glory  of  heaven. 

"After  all,  he  only  took  two  glasses,  mamma,"  said  Vic- 
torine, as  she  lovingly  passed  her  fingers  through  Engine's 
hair. 

**  Indeed,  if  he  had  been  a  dissipated  young  man,  child, 
he  would  have  carried  his  wine  like  the  rest  of  them.  His 
drowsiness  does  him  credit." 

There  was  a  sound  of  wheels  outside  in  the  street. 

"There  is  M.  Vautrin,  mamma,"  said  the  girl.  "Just 
take  M.  Eugene.  I  would  rather  not  have  that  man  see  me 
like  this ;  there  are  some  ways  of  looking  at  you  that  seem 
to  sully  your  soul  and  make  you  feel  as  though  you  had 
nothing  on." 

**  Oh,  no,  you  are  wrong  !  "  said  Mme.  Couture.  "  M.  Vau- 
trin is  a  worthy  man  ;  he  reminds  me  a  little  of  my  late 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  197 

husband,  poor  dear  M.  Couture,  rough  but  kind-hearted;  his 
bark  is  worse  than  his  bite." 

Vautrin  came  in  while  she  was  speaking ;  he  did  not  make 
a  sound,  but  looked  for  a  while  at  the  picture  of  the  two 
young  faces — the  lamplight  falling  full  upon  them  seemed  to 
caress  them. 

**  Well,"  he  remarked,  folding  his  arms,  "  here  is  a  picture ! 
It  would  have  suggested  some  pleasing  pages  to  Bernardin  de 
Saint-Pierre  (good  soul),  who  wrote  '  Paul  et  Virginie.' 
Youth  is  very  charming,  Mme.  Couture  !  Sleep  on,  poor 
boy,"  he  added,  looking  at  Eugene,  "  luck  sometimes  comes 
while  we  are  sleeping.  There  is  something  touching  and 
attractive  to  me  about  this  young  man,  madame,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  I  know  that  his  nature  is  in  harmony  with  his  face. 
Just  look,  the  head  of  a  cherub  on  an  angel's  shoulder  !  He 
deserves  to  be  loved.  If  I  were  a  woman  I  would  die  (no — 
not  such  a  fool),  I  would  live  for  him."  He  bent  lower  and 
spoke  in  the  widow's  ear.  "When  I  see  those  two  together, 
madame,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Providence  meant  them 
for  each  other ;  He  works  by  secret  ways,  and  tries  the  reins 
and  the  heart,"  he  said  in  a  loud  voice.  "And  when  I  see 
you,  my  children,  thus  united  by  a  like  purity  and  by  all 
human  affections,  I  say  to  myself  that  it  is  quite  impossible 
that  the  future  should  separate  you.  God  is  just."  He  turned 
to  Victorine.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  seen 
the  line  of  success  in  your  hand.  Let  me  look  at  it.  Mile. 
Victorine  ;  I  am  well  up  in  palmistry,  and  I  have  told  fortunes 
many  a  time.  Come,  now,  don't  be  frightened.  Ah  !  what 
do  I  see  ?  Upon  my  word,  you  will  be  one  of  the  richest 
heiresses  in  Paris  before  very  long.  You  will  heap  riches  on 
the  man  who  loves  you.  Your  father  will  want  you  to  go  and 
live  with  him.  You  will  marry  a  young  and  handsome  man 
with  a  title,  and  he  will  idolize  you." 

The  heavy  footsteps  of  the  coquettish  widow,  who  was 
coming  down  the  stairs,  interrupted  Vautrin's  fortune-telling. 


198  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

**  Here  is  Mamma  Vauquer,  fair  as  a  starr-r-r,  dressed  within 
an  inch  of  her  life.  Aren't  we  a  trifle  pinched  for  room?" 
he  inquired,  with  his  arm  round  the  lady  ;  "we  are  screwed 
up  very  tightly  about  the  bust,  mamma !  If  we  are  much 
agitated,  there  may  be  an  explosion ;  but  I  will  pick  up  the 
fragments  with  all  the  care  of  an  antiquary." 

"There  is  a  man  who  can  talk  the  language  of  French 
gallantry!"  said  the  widow,  bending  to  speak  in  Mme. 
Couture's  ear. 

"  Good-by,  little  ones  !  "  said  Vautrin,  turning  to  Eugene 
and  Victorine.  "  Bless  you  both  !  "  and  he  laid  a  hand  on 
either  head.  "  Take  my  word  for  it,  young  lady,  an  honest 
man's  prayers  are  worth  something ;  they  should  bring  you 
happiness,  for  God  hears  them." 

"Good-by,  dear,"  said  Madame  Vauquer  to  her  lodger. 
*•  Do  you  think  that  M.  Vautrin  means  to  run  away  with 
me  ?  "  she  added,  lowering  her  voice. 

"  Lack-a-day  !  "  said  the  widow. 

**  Oh  !  mamma  dear,  suppose  it  should  really  happen  as  that 
kind  M.  Vautrin  said!"  said  Victorine  with  a  sigh,  as  she 
looked  at  her  hands.     The  two  women  were  alone  together. 

"Why,  it  wouldn't  take  much  to  bring  it  to  pass,"  said  the 
elder  lady ;  "just  a  fall  from  his  horse,  and  your  monster  of  a 
brother " 

"Oh  !  mamma." 

"Good  Lord!  Well,  perhaps  it  is  a  sin  to  wish  bad  luck 
to  an  enemy,"  the  widow  remarked.  "  I  will  do  penance  for 
it.  Still,  I  would  strew  flowers  on  his  grave  with  the  greatest 
pleasure,  and  that  is  the  truth.  Black-hearted,  that  he  is ! 
The  coward  couldn't  speak  up  for  his  own  mother,  and 
cheats  you  out  of  your  share  by  deceit  and  trickery.  My 
cousin  had  a  pretty  fortune  of  her  own,  but,  unluckily  for  you, 
nothing  was  said  in  the  marriage  contract  about  anything  that 
she  might  come  in  for." 

"  It  would  be  very  hard  if  my  good-fortune  is  to  cost  some 


FATHER   GORIOl.  199 

one  else  his  life,"  said  Victorine.  "If  I  cannot  be  happy 
unless  my  brother  is  to  be  taken  out  of  the  world,  I  would 
rather  stay  here  all  my  life." 

**  Mon  Dieu  /  it  is  just  as  that  good  M.  Vautrin  says,  and 
he  is  full  of  piety,  you  see,"  Mme.  Couture  remarked.  *'  I 
am  very  glad  to  find  that  he  is  not  an  unbeliever  like  the 
rest  of  them  that  talk  of  the  Almighty  with  less  respect  than 
they  do  of  the  devil.  Well,  as  he  was  saying,  who  can 
know  the  ways  by  which  it  may  please  Providence  to 
lead  us?" 

With  Sylvie's  help  the  two  women  at  last  succeeded  in 
getting  Eugene  up  to  his  room  ;  they  laid  him  on  the  bed, 
and  the  cook  unfastened  his  clothes  to  make  him  more  com- 
fortable. Before  they  left  the  room,  Victorine  snatched  an 
opportunity  when  her  guardian's  back  was  turned,  and  pressed 
a  kiss  on  Eugene's  forehead,  feeling  all  the  joy  that  this 
stolen  pleasure  could  give  her.  Then  she  looked  round  the 
room,  and  gathering  up,  as  it  were,  into  one  single  thought, 
all  the  untold  bliss  of  that  day,  she  made  a  picture  of  her 
memories,  and  dwelt  upon  it  until  she  slept,  the  happiest 
creature  in  Paris. 

That  evening's  merrymaking,  in  the  course  of  which  Vau- 
trin had  given  the  drugged  wine  to  Eugene  and  Father  Goriot, 
was  his  own  ruin.  Bianchon,  flustered  with  wine,  forgot  to 
open  the  subject  of  Trompe-la-Mort  with  Mile.  Michonneau. 
The  mere  mention  of  the  name  would  have  set  Vautrin  on 
his  guard  ;  for  Vautrin,  or,  to  give  him  his  real  name,  Jacques 
Collin,  was  in  fact  the  notorious  escaped  convict. 

But  it  was  the  joke  about  the  Venus  of  Pere-Lachaise  that 
finally  decided  his  fate.  Mile.  Michonneau  had  very  nearly 
made  up  her  mind  to  warn  the  convict  and  to  throw  herself 
on  his  generosity,  with  the  idea  of  making  a  better  bargain 
for  herself  by  helping  him  to  escape  that  night ;  but  as  it  was, 
she  went  out  escorted  by  Poiret  in  search  of  the  famous  chief 
of  detectives  in   the  Petite   Rue   Saint- Anne,  still  thinking 


200  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

that  it  was  the  district  superintendent — one  Gondureau — with 
whom  she  had  to  do.  The  head  of  the  department  received 
his  visitors  courteously.  There  was  a  little  talk,  and  the  details 
were  definitely  arranged.  Mile.  Michonneau  asked  for  the 
draught  that  she  was  to  administer  in  order  to  set  about  her 
investigation.  But  the  great  man's  evident  satisfaction  set 
Mile.  Michonneau  thinking ;  and  she  began  to  see  that  this 
business  involved  something  more  than  the  mere  capture  of  a 
runaway  convict.  She  racked  her  brains  while  he  looked  in 
a  drawer  in  his  desk  for  the  little  phial,  and  it  dawned  upon 
her  that  in  consequence  of  the  treacherous  revelations  made 
by  the  prisoners  the  police  were  hoping  to  lay  their  hands 
on  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  But  on  hinting  her  suspi- 
cions to  the  old  fox  of  the  Petite  Rue  Saint- Anne,  that  officer 
began  to  smile,  and  tried  to  put  her  off  the  scent. 

"A  delusion,"  he  said.  "Collin's  sorbonne  is  the  most 
dangerous  that  has  yet  been  found  among  the  dangerous 
classes.  That  is  all,  and  the  rascals  are  quite  aware  of  it. 
They  rally  round  him  ;  he  is  the  backbone  of  the  federation, 
its  Bonaparte,  in  short ;  he  is  very  popular  with  them  all. 
The  rogue  will  never  leave  his  chump  in  the  Place  de  Greve." 

As  Mile.  Michonneau  seemed  mystified,  Gondureau  ex- 
plained the  two  slang  words  for  her  benefit.  Sorbonne  and 
chump  are  two  forcible  expressions  borrowed  from  thieves' 
Latin,  thieves,  of  all  people,  being  compelled  to  consider 
the  human  head  in  its  two  aspects.  A  sorbonne  is  the  head 
of  a  living  man,  his  faculty  of  thinking — his  council;  a  chump 
is  a  contemptuous  epithet  that  implies  how  little  a  human 
head  is  worth  after  the  axe  has  done  its  work. 

"Collin  is  playing  us  off,"  he  continued.  "When  we 
come  across  a  man  like  a  bar  of  steel  tempered  in  the  English 
fashion,  there  is  always  one  resource  left — we  can  kill  him  if 
he  takes  it  into  his  head  to  make  the  least  resistance.  We  are 
reckoning  on  several  methods  of  killing  Collin  to-morrow 
morning.     It  saves  a  trial,  and  society  is  rid  of  him  without 


FATHER    GORIOT.  201 

all  the  expense  of  guarding  and  feeding  him.  What  with 
getting  up  the  case,  summoning  witnesses,  paying  their  ex- 
penses, and  carrying  out  the  sentence,  it  costs  a  lot  to  go 
through  all  the  proper  formalities  before  you  can  get  quit  of 
one  of  these  good-for-nothings,  over  and  above  the  three 
thousand  francs  that  you  are  going  to  have.  There  is  a  sav- 
ing in  time  as  well.  One  good  thrust  of  the  bayonet  into 
Trompe-la-Mort's  paunch  will  prevent  scores  of  crimes,  and 
save  fifty  scoundrels  from  following  his  example ;  they  will 
be  very  careful  to  keep  themselves  out  of  the  police  courts. 
That  is  doing  the  work  of  the  police  thoroughly,  and  true 
philanthropists  will  tell  you  that  it  is  better  to  prevent  crime 
than  to  punish  it." 

''And  you  do  a  service  to  our  country,"  said  Poiret. 

**  Really,  you  are  talking  in  a  very  sensible  manner  to-night, 
that  you  are,"  said  the  head  of  the  department.  "Yes,  of 
course,  we  are  serving  our  country,  and  we  are  very  hardly 
used  too.  We  do  society  very  great  services  that  are  not 
recognized.  In  fact,  a  superior  man  must  rise  above  vulgar 
prejudices,  and  a  Christian  must  resign  himself  to  the  mishaps 
that  doing  right  entails,  when  right  is  done  in  an  out-of-the- 
way  style.  Paris  is  Paris,  you  see  !  That  is  the  explanation 
of  my  life.  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  a  good-evening, 
mademoiselle.  I  shall  bring  my  men  to  the  Jardin  du  Roi 
in  the  morning.  Send  Christophe  to  the  Rue  du  Buffon,  tell 
him  to  ask  for  M.  Gondureau  in  the  house  where  you  saw  me 
before.  Your  servant,  sir.  If  you  should  ever  have  anything 
stolen  from  you,  come  to  me,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  get  it 
back  for  you. ' ' 

"  Well,  now,"  Poiret  remarked  to  Mile.  Michonneau,  "there 
are  idiots  who  are  scared  out  of  their  wits  by  the  word  police. 
That  was  a  very  pleasant-spoken  gentleman,  and  what  he  wants 
you  to  do  is  as  easy  as  saying  *  Good-day.'  " 

The  next  day  was  destined  to  be  one  of  the  most  extraor- 


202  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

dinary  in  the  annals  of  the  Maison  Vauquer.  Hitherto  the 
most  startling  occurrence  in  its  tranquil  existence  had  been 
the  portentous,  meteor-like  apparition  of  the  sham  Comtesse 
de  I'Ambermesnil.  But  the  catastrophes  of  this  great  day 
were  to  cast  all  previous  events  into  the  shade,  and  supply  an 
inexhaustible  topic  of  conversation  for  Mme.  Vauquer  and  her 
boarders  so  long  as  she  lived. 

In  the  first  place,  Goriot  and  Eugene  de  Rastignac  both 
slept  until  close  upon  eleven  o'clock.  Mme.  Vauquer,  who 
came  home  about  midnight  from  the  Gaite  lay  abed  till  half- 
past  ten.  Christophe,  after  a  prolonged  slumber  (he  had 
finished  Vautrin's  first  bottle  of  wine),  was  behindhand  with 
his  work,  but  Poiret  and  Mile.  Michonneau  uttered  no  com- 
plaint, though  breakfast  was  delayed.  As  for  Victorine  and 
Mme.  Couture,  they  also  lay  late.  Vautrin  went  out  before 
eight  o'clock,  and  only  came  back  just  as  breakfast  was  ready. 
Nobody  protested,  therefore,  when  Sylvie  and  Christophe 
went  up  at  a  quarter-past  eleven,  knocked  at  all  the  doors, 
and  announced  that  breakfast  was  waiting.  While  Sylvie  and 
the  man  were  upstairs,  Mile.  Michonneau,  who  came  down  first, 
poured  the  contents  of  the  phial  into  the  silver  cup  belonging 
to  Vautrin — it  was  standing  with  the  others  in  the  bain-marie 
that  kept  the  cream  hot  for  the  morning  coffee.  The  spinster 
had  reckoned  on  this  custom  of  the  house  to  do  her  stroke  of 
business.  The  seven  lodgers  were  at  last  collected  together, 
not  without  some  difficulty.  Just  as  Eugene  came  downstairs, 
stretching  himself  and  yawning,  a  commissionaire  handed 
him  a  letter  from  Mme.  de  Nucingen.     It  ran  thus : 

"  I  feel  neither  false  vanity  nor  anger  where  you  are  con- 
cerned, my  friend.  Till  two  o'clock  this  morning  I  waited 
for  you.  Oh,  that  waiting  for  one  whom  you  love  !  No  one 
that  had  passed  through  that  torture  could  inflict  it  on  another. 
I  know  now  that  you  could  have  never  loved  before.  What 
can  have  happened?    Anxiety  has   taken    hold  of   me.      I 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  203 

would  have  come  myself  to  find  out  what  had  happened,  if 
I  had  not  feared  to  betray  the  secrets  of  my  heart  ?  How 
can  I  walk  or  drive  out  at  this  time  of  day  ?  Would  it 
not  be  ruin  ?  I  have  felt  to  the  full  how  wretched  it  is  to 
be  a  woman.  Send  a  word  to  reassure  me,  and  explain 
how  it  is  that  you  have  not  come  after  what  my  father  told 
you.  I  shall  be  angry,  but  I  will  forgive  you.  One  word, 
for  pity's  sake.  You  will  come  to  me  very  soon,  will  you  not  ? 
If  you  are  busy,  a  word  will  be  enough.  Say,  *  I  will  hasten 
to  you,' or  else*  I  am  ill.'  But  if  you  were  ill  my  father 
would  have  come  immediately  to  tell  me  so.  What  can  have 
happened? " 

"Yes,  indeed,  what  has  happened?"  exclaimed  Eugene, 
and,  hurrying  down  to  the  dining-room,  he  crumpled  up  the 
letter  without  reading  any  more.     "  What  time  is  it  ?  " 

**  Half-past  eleven,"  said  Vautrin,  dropping  a  lump  of  sugar 
into  his  coffee. 

The  escaped  convict  cast  a  glance  at  Eugene,  a  cold  and 
fascinating  glance  ;  men  gifted  with  this  magnetic  power  can 
quell  furious  lunatics  in  a  madhouse  by  such  a  glance,  it  is 
said.  Eugene  shook  in  every  limb.  There  was  the  sound  of 
wheels  in  the  street,  and  in  another  moment  a  man  with  a 
scared  face  rushed  into  the  room.  It  was  one  of  M.  Taille- 
fer's  servants ;  Mme.  Couture  recognized  the  livery  at  once. 

**  Mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  "  your  father  is  asking  for  you 
— something  terrible  has  happened  !  M.  Frederic  has  had  a 
sword  thrust  in  the  forehead  in  a  duel,  and  the  doctors  have 
given  him  up.  You  will  scarcely  be  in  time  to  say  good-by 
to  him  !  he  is  unconscious. " 

"Poor  young  fellow!"  exclaimed  Vautrin.  *' How  can 
people  brawl  when  they  have  a  certain  income  of  thirty  thou- 
sand livres  ?  Young  people  have  bad  manners,  and  that  is  a 
fact." 

"  Sir  !  "  cried  Eugene. 


204  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"  Well,  what  then,  you  big  baby  !  "  said  Vautrin,  swallow- 
ing down  his  coffee  imperturbably,  an  operation  which  Mile. 
Michonneau  watched  with  such  close  attention  that  she  had 
no  emotion  to  spare  for  the  dreadful  news  that  had  struck  the 
others  dumb  with  amazement.  "  Are  there  not  duels  every 
morning  in  Paris?"  added  Vautrin,  with  the  utmost  calmness 
and  deliberation. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  Victorine,"  said  Mme.  Couture,  and 
the  two  women  hurried  away  at  once  without  either  hats  or 
shawls.  But  before  she  went,  Victorine,  with  her  eyes  full  of 
tears,  gave  Eugdne  a  glance  that  said — "  How  little  I  thought 
that  our  happiness  should  cost  me  tears  !  " 

"Dear  me,  you  are  a  prophet,  M.  Vautrin,"  said  Mme. 
Vauquer. 

"  I  am  all  sorts  of  things,"  said  Vautrin. 

"Queer,  isn't  it?"  said  Mme.  Vauquer,  stringing  together 
a  succession  of  commonplaces  suited  to  the  occasion.  "  Death 
takes  us  off  without  asking  us  about  it.  The  young  often  go 
before  the  old.  It  is  a  lucky  thing  for  us  women  that  we  are 
not  liable  to  fight  duels,  but  we  have  other  complaints  that 
men  don't  suffer  from.  We  bear  children,  and  it  takes  a 
long  time  to  get  over  it.  What  a  windfall  for  Victorine  ! 
Her  father  will  have  to  acknowledge  her  now !  " 

"There!"  said  Vautrin,  looking  at  Eugene,  "yesterday 
she  had  not  a  penny ;  this  morning  she  has  several  millions  to 
her  fortune." 

"I  say,  M.  Eugene!"  cried  Mme.  Vauquer,  "you  have 
landed  on  your  feet  !  " 

At  this  exclamation,  Father  Goriot  looked  at  the  student, 
and  saw  the  crumpled  letter  still  in  his  hand. 

"You  have  not  read  it  through  !  What  does  this  mean? 
Are  you  going  to  be  like  the  rest  of  them  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Madame,  I  shall  never  marry  Mile.  Victorine,"  said 
Eugene,  turning  to  Mme.  Vauquer  with  an  expression  of 
terror  and  loathing  that  surprised  the  onlookers  at  this  scene. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  206 

Father  Goriot  caught  the  student's  hand  and  grasped  it 
warmly.     He  could  have  kissed  it. 

"  Oh,  ho  !  "  said  Vautrin,  **  the  Italians  have  a  good  pro- 
verb— Col  tempo. ' ' 

"Is  there  any  answer?"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen's  mes- 
senger, addressing  Eugene. 

"  Say  that  I  will  come  directly." 

The  man  went.  Eugene  was  in  a  state  of  such  violent  ex- 
citement that  he  could  not  be  prudent. 

"What  is  to  be  done?"  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "There 
are  no  proofs  ! ' ' 

Vautrin  began  to  smile.  Though  the  drug  he  had  taken 
was  doing  its  work,  the  convict  was  so  vigorous  that  he  rose 
to  his  feet,  gave  Rastignac  a  look,  and  said  in  hollow  tones, 
"  Luck  comes  to  us  while  we  sleep,  young  man,"  and  fell  stiff 
and  stark,  as  if  he  were  struck  dead. 

"  So  there  is  a  Divine  justice  !  "  said  Eugdne. 

' '  Well,  if  ever !  What  has  come  to  that  poor  dear  M. 
Vautrin?" 

"  A  stroke  !  "  cried  Mile.  Michonneau. 

"Here,  Sylvie !  girl,  run  for  the  doctor,"  called  the 
widow.  "  Oh,  M.  Rastignac,  just  go  for  M.  Bianchon,  and  be 
as  quick  as  you  can ;  Sylvie  might  not  be  in  time  to  catch  our 
doctor,  M.  Grimprel." 

Rastignac  was  glad  of  an  excuse  to  leave  that  den  of 
horrors,  his  departure  for  the  doctor  was  nothing  less  than 
a  hurried  flight. 

"  Here,  Christophe,  go  round  to  the  chemist's  and  ask  for 
something  that's  good  for  the  apoplexy." 

Christophe  likewise  went. 

"  Father  Goriot,  just  help  us  to  get  him  upstairs." 

Vautrin  was  taken  up  among  them,  carried  carefully  up  the 
narrow  staircase,  and  laid  upon  his  bed. 

"  I  can  do  no  good  here,  so  I  shall  go  to  see  my  daughter," 
said  M.  Goriot. 


206  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"Selfish  old  thing!  "  cried  Mme.  Vauquer.  "Yes,  go;  I 
wish  you  may  die  like  a  dog." 

"Just  go  and  see  if  you  can  find  some  ether,"  said  Ml  1. 
Michonneau  to  Mme.  Vauquer;  the  former,  with  some  help 
from  Poiret,  had  unfastened  the  sick  man's  clothes. 

Mme.  Vauquer  went  down  to  her  room,  and  left  Mile. 
Michonneau  mistress  of  the  situation. 

"  Now  !  just  pull  down  his  shirt  and  turn  him  over,  quick  ! 
You  might  be  of  some  use  in  sparing  my  modesty,"  she  said 
to  Poiret,  "  instead  of  standing  there  like  a  stock." 

Vautrin  was  turned  over ;  Mile.  Michonneau  gave  his 
shoulder  a  sharp  slap,  and  the  two  portentous  letters  appeared, 
white  against  the  red. 

"There,  you  have  earned  your  three  thousand  francs  very 
easily,"  exclaimed  Poiret,  supporting  Vautrin  while  Mile. 
Michonneau  slipped  on  the  shirt  again.  "Oh!  how  heavy 
he  is,"  he  added,  as  he  laid  the  convict  down, 

"  Hush  !  Suppose  there  is  a  strong  box  here  !  "  said  the 
old  maid  briskly ;  her  glances  seemed  to  pierce  the  walls,  she 
scrutinized  every  article  of  the  furniture  with  greedy  eyes. 
"  Could  we  find  some  excuse  for  opening  that  desk?  " 

"It  mightn't  be  quite  right,"  responded  Poiret  to  this. 

"  Where  is  the  harm?  It  is  money  stolen  from  all  sorts  of 
people,  so  it  doesn't  belong  to  any  one  now.  But  we  haven't 
time,  there  is  the  Vauquer." 

"Here  is  the  ether,"  said  that  lady.  "I  must  say  that 
this  is  an  eventful  day.  Lord  !  that  man  can't  have  had  a 
stroke;  he  is  as  white  as  curds." 

"  White  as  curds  ?  "  echoed  Poiret. 

"  And  his  pulse  is  steady,"  said  the  widow,  laying  her  hand 
on  his  breast. 

"  Steady?  "  said  the  astonished  Poiret. 

"He  is  all  right." 

**  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  asked  Poiret. 

'*  Lord  !    Yes,  he  looks  as  if  he  were  sleeping.     Sylvie  has 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  207 

gone  for  a  doctor.  I  say,  Mile.  Michonneau,  he  is  sniffing 
the  ether.  Pooh !  it  is  only  a  spasm.  His  pulse  is  good. 
He  is  as  strong  as  a  Turk.  Just  look,  mademoiselle,  what  a 
fur  tippet  he  has  on  his  chest ;  that  is  the  sort  of  man  to  live 
till  he  is  a  hundred.  His  wig  holds  on  tightly,  however. 
Dear  me  !  it  is  glued  on,  and  his  own  hair  is  red  ;  that  is  why 
he  wears  a  wig.  They  always  say  that  red-haired  people  are 
either  the  worst  or  the  best.  Is  he  one  of  the  good  ones,  I 
wonder  !  " 

"  Good  to  hang,"  said  Poiret. 

"Round  a  pretty  woman's  neck,  you  mean,"  said  Mile. 
Michonneau,  hastily.  "Just  go  away,  M.  Poiret.  It  is  a 
woman's  duty  to  nurse  you  men  when  you  are  ill.  Besides, 
for  all  the  good  you  are  doing,  you  may  as  well  take  yourself 
off,"  she  added.  "  Mme.  Vauquer  and  I  will  take  great  care 
of  dear  M.  Vautrin." 

Poiret  went  out  on  tiptoe  without  a  murmur,  like  a  dog 
kicked  out  of  the  room  by  his  master. 

Rastignac  had  gone  out  for  the  sake  of  physical  exertion  ; 
he  wanted  to  breathe  the  air,  he  felt  stifled.  Yesterday  even- 
ing he  had  meant  to  prevent  the  murder  arranged  for  half-past 
eight  that  morning.  What  had  happened  ?  What  ought  he 
to  do  now  ?  He  trembled  to  think  that  he  himself  might 
be  implicated,     Vautrin's  coolness  still  further  dismayed  him. 

"  Yet,  how  if  Vautrin  should  die  without  saying  a  word  ?  " 
Rastignac  asked  himself 

He  hurried  along  the  alleys  of  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  as 
if  the  hounds  of  justice  were  after  him,  and  he  already 
heard  the  baying  of  the  pack. 

"Well,"  shouted  Bianchon,  "have  you  seen  the  Pilote?'* 

The  Pilote  was  a  Radical  sheet,  edited  by  M.  Tissot.  It 
came  out  several  hours  later  than  the  morning  papers,  and 
was  meant  for  the  benefit  of  country  subscribers ;  for  it 
brought  the  morning's  news  into  provincial  districts  twenty- 
four  hours  sooner  than  the  ordinary  local  journals. 


208  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"There  is  a  wonderful  history  in  it,"  said  the  house  student 
of  the  Hopital  Cochin.  "Young  Taillefer  called  out  Count 
Franchessini,  of  the  Old  Guard,  and  the  Count  put  a  couple 
of  inches  of  steel  into  his  forehead.  And  here  is  little  Victo- 
rine  one  of  the  richest  heiresses  in  Paris  !  If  we  had  known 
that,  eh  ?  What  a  game  of  chance  death  is !  They  said 
Victorine  was  sweet  on  you  j  was  there  any  truth  in  it  ?  " 

**  Shut  up,  Bianchon ;  I  shall  never  marry  her.  I  am 
in  love  with  a  charming  woman,  and  she  is  in  love  with 
me,  so " 

**  You  said  that  as  if  you  were  screwing  yourself  up  to 
be  faithful  to  her.  I  should  like  to  see  the  woman  worth 
the  sacrifice  of  Master  Taillefer's  money!" 

*'  Are  all  the  devils  of  hell  at  my  heels,"  cried  Rastignac. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Are  you  mad  ?  Give  us 
your  hand,"  said  Bianchon,  "and  let  me  feel  your  pulse. 
You  are  feverish." 

"Just  go  to  Mother  Vauquer's,"  said  Rastignac;  "that 
scoundrel  Vautrin  has  dropped  down  like  one  dead." 

"Aha!  "  said  Bianchon,  leaving  Rastignac  to  his  reflec- 
tions, "  you  confirm  my  suspicions,  and  now  I  mean  to  make 
sure  for  myself." 

The  law-student's  long  walk  was  a  memorable  one  for  him. 
He  made  in  some  way  a  survey  of  his  conscience.  After  a 
close  scrutiny,  after  hesitation  and  self-examination,  his  honor 
at  any  rate  came  out  scathless  from  this  sharp  and  terrible 
ordeal,  like  a  bar  of  iron  tested  in  the  English  fashion.  He 
remembered  Father  Goriot's  confidences  of  the  evening 
before ;  he  recollected  the  rooms  taken  for  him  in  the  Rue 
d'Artois,  so  that  he  might  be  near  Delphine ;  and  then  he 
thought  of  his  letter,  and  read  it  again  and  kissed  it. 

"Such  a  love  is  my  anchor  of  safety,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "How  the  old  man's  heart  must  have  been  wrung! 
He  says  nothing  about  all  that  he  has  been  through  ;  but 
who  could  not  guess?    Well,  then,  I  will  be  like  a  son  to 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  209 

him  ;  his  life  shall  be  made  happy.  If  she  cares  for  me,  she 
will  often  come  to  spend  the  day  with  him.  That  grand 
Comtesse  de  Restaud  is  a  heartless  thing ;  she  would  turn 
her  father  into  her  hall  porter.  Dear  Delphine  !  she  is 
kinder  to  the  old  man  ;  she  is  worthy  to  be  loved.  Ah  !  this 
evening  I  shall  be  very  happy  !  " 

He  took  out  his  watch  and  admired  it. 

"  I  have  had  nothing  but  success !  If  two  people  mean  to 
love  each  other  for  ever,  they  may  help  each  other,  and  I  can 
take  this.  Besides,  I  shall  succeed,  and  I  will  repay  her  a 
hundredfold.  There  is  nothing  criminal  in  this  liaison; 
nothing  that  could  cause  the  most  austere  moralist  to  frown. 
How  many  respectable  people  contract  similar  unions  !  We 
deceive  nobody  ;  it  is  deception  that  makes  a  position  humili- 
ating. If  you  lie,  you  lower  yourself  at  once.  She  and  her 
husband  have  lived  apart  for  a  long  while.  Besides,  how  if  I 
called  upon  that  Alsatian  to  resign  a  wife  whom  he  cannot 
make  happy  ?  ' ' 

Rastignac's  battle  with  himself  went  on  for  a  long  while; 
and  though  the  scruples  of  youth  inevitably  gained  the  day, 
an  irresistible  curiosity  led  him,  about  half-past  four,  to  return^ 
to  the  Maison  Vauquer  through  the  gathering  dusk. 

Bianchon  had  given  Vautrin  an  emetic,  reserving  the  con- 
tents of  the  stomach  for  chemical  analysis  at  the  hospital. 
Mile.  Michonneau's  officious  alacrity  had  still  further  strength- 
ened his  suspicions  of  her.  Vautrin,  moreover,  had  recovered 
so  quickly  that  it  was  impossible  not  to  suspect  some  plot 
against  the  leader  of  all  frolics  at  the  lodging-house.  Vautrin 
was  standing  in  front  of  the  stove  in  the  dining-room  when 
Rastignac  came  in.  All  the  lodgers  were  assembled  sooner 
than  usual  by  the  news  of  young  Taillefer's  duel.  They  were 
anxious  to  hear  any  detail  about  the  affair,  and  to  talk  over 
the  probable  change  in  Victorine's  prospects.  Father  Goriot 
alone  was  absent,  but  the  rest  were  chatting.  No  sooner  did 
Eugene  come  into  the  room,  than  his  eyes  met  the  inscrutable 
14 


210  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

gaze  of  Vautrin.  It  was  the  same  look  that  had  read  his 
thoughts  before — the  look  that  had  such  power  to  waken  evil 
thoughts  in  his  heart.     He  shuddered. 

**  Well,  dear  boy,"  said  the  escaped  convict,  "  I  am  likely 
to  cheat  death  for  a  good  while  yet.  According  to  these 
ladies,  I  have  had  a  stroke  that  would  have  felled  an  ox,  and 
come  off  with  flying  colors." 

"  A  bull  you  might  say,"  cried  the  widow. 

"You  really  might  be  sorry  to  see  me  still  alive,"  said 
Vautrin  in  Rastignac's  ear,  thinking  that  he  guessed  the  stu- 
dent's thoughts.     "  You  must  be  mighty  sure  of  yourself." 

"  Mile.  Michonneau  was  talking  the  day  before  yesterday 
about  a  gentleman  nicknamed  Trompe-la-Mort,^''  said  Bian- 
chon ;  **  and,  upon  my  word,  that  name  would  do  very  well 
for  you." 

Vautrin  seemed  thunderstruck.  He  turned  pale,  and  stag- 
gered back.  He  turned  his  magnetic  glance,  like  a  ray  of 
vivid  light,  on  Mile.  Michonneau ;  the  old  maid  shrank  and 
trembled  under  the  influence  of  that  strong  will,  and  collapsed 
into  a  chair.  The  mask  of  good-nature  had  dropped  from 
the  convict's  face ;  from  the  unmistakable  ferocity  of  that 
sinister  look,  Poiret  felt  that  the  old  maid  was  in  danger,  and 
hastily  stepped  between  them.  None  of  the  lodgers  under- 
stood this  scene  in  the  least,  they  looked  on  in  mute  amaze- 
ment. There  was  a  pause.  Just  then  there  was  a  sound  of 
tramping  feet  outside ;  there  were  soldiers  there,  it  seemed, 
for  there  was  a  ring  of  several  rifles  on  the  pavement  of  the 
street.  Collin  was  mechanically  looking  round  the  walls  for 
a  way  of  escape,  when  four  men  entered  by  way  of  the  sitting- 
room. 

**  In  the  name  of  the  king  and  the  law  !  "  said  an  officer, 
but  the  words  were  almost  lost  in  a  murmur  of  astonishment. 

Silence  fell  on  the  room.  The  lodgers  made  way  for  three 
of  the  men,  who  had  each  a  hand  on  a  cocked  pistol  in  a  side 
pocket.     Two  policemen,  who  followed  the  detectives,  kept 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  211 

the  entrance  to  the  sitting-room,  and  two  more  appeared  in 
the  doorway  that  gave  access  to  the  staircase.  A  sound  of 
footsteps  came  from  the  garden,  and  again  the  rifles  of  several 
soldiers  rang  on  the  cobble-stones  under  the  window.  All 
chance  of  salvation  by  flight  was  cut  off  for  Trompe-la-Mort,  to 
whom  all  eyes  instinctively  turned.  The  chief  walked  straight 
up  to  him,  and  commenced  operations  by  giving  him  a  sharp 
blow  on  the  head,  so  that  the  wig  fell  off",  and  Collin's  face 
was  revealed  in  all  its  ugliness.  There  was  a  terrible  sugges- 
tion of  strength  mingled  with  cunning  in  the  short,  brick-red 
crop  of  hair,  the  whole  head  was  in  harmony  with  his  power- 
ful frame,  and  at  that  moment  the  fires  of  hell  seemed  to 
gleam  from  his  eyes.  In  that  flash  the  real  Vautrin  shone 
forth,  revealed  at  once  before  them  all  j  they  understood  his 
past,  his  present,  and  future,  his  pitiless  doctrines,  his  actions, 
the  religion  of  his  own  good  pleasure,  the  majesty  with  which 
his  cynicism  and  contempt  for  mankind  invested  him,  the 
physical  strength  of  an  organization  proof  against  all  trials. 
The  blood  flew  to  his  face,  and  his  eyes  glared  like  the  eyes 
of  a  wildcat.  He  started  back  with  savage  energy  and  a 
fierce  growl  which  drew  exclamations  of  alarm  from  the 
lodgers.  At  that  leonine  start  the  police  caught  at  their 
pistols  under  cover  of  the  general  clamor.  Collin  saw  the 
gleaming  muzzles  of  the  weapons,  saw  his  danger,  and  in- 
stantly gave  proof  of  a  power  of  the  highest  order.  There  was 
something  horrible  and  majestic  in  the  spectacle  of  the  sudden 
transformation  in  his  face;  he  could  only  be  compared  to  a 
caldron  full  of  the  steam  that  can  send  mountains  flying,  a 
terrific  force  dispelled  in  a  moment  by  a  drop  of  cold  water. 
The  drop  of  water  that  cooled  his  wrathful  fury  was  a  reflec- 
tion that  flashed  across  his  brain  like  lightning.  He  began 
to  smile,  and  looked  down  at  his  wig. 

"You  are  not  in  the  politest  of  humors  to-day,"  he  re- 
marked to  the  chief,  and  he  held  out  his  hands  to  the  police- 
men with  a  jerk  of  his  head. 


212  FATHER   GORIOT. 

** Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "put  on  the  bracelets  or  the  hand- 
cuffs. I  call  on  those  present  to  witness  that  I  make  no 
resistance." 

A  murmur  of  admiration  ran  through  the  room  at  the  sud- 
den outpouring  like  fire  and  lava  flood  from  this  human 
volcano,  and  its  equally  sudden  cessation. 

*'  There's  a  sell  for  you,  master  crusher,"  the  convict  added, 
looking  at  the  famous  director  of  police. 

"Come,  strip!"  said  he  of  the  Petite  Rue  Saint-Anne, 
contemptuously. 

"Why?"  asked  Collin.  "There  are  ladies  present;  I 
deny  nothing,  and  surrender." 

He  paused,  and  looked  round  the  room  like  an  orator  who 
is  about  to  overwhelm  his  audience. 

"  Take  this  down,  Daddy  Lachapelle,"  he  went  on,  address- 
ing a  little,  white-haired  old  man  who  had  seated  himself  at 
the  end  of  the  table ;  and,  after  drawing  a  printed  form  from 
a  portfolio,  was  proceeding  to  draw  up  a  document.  "  I 
acknowledge  myself  to  be  Jacques  Collin,  otherwise  known 
as  Trompe-la-Mort,  condemned  to  twenty  years'  penal  servi- 
tude, and  I  have  just  proved  that  I  have  come  fairly  by  my 
nickname.  If  I  had  as  much  as  raised  my  hand,"  he  went 
on,  addressing  the  othe/  lodgers,  "  those  three  sneaking 
wretches  yonder  would  have  drawn  claret  on  Mamma  Vau- 
quer's  domestic  hearth.  The  rogues  have  laid  their  heads 
together  to  set  a  trap  for  me." 

Mme.  Vauquer  felt  sick  and  faint  at  these  words. 

"Good  Lord  !  "  she  cried,  "  this  does  give  one  a  turn; 
and  me  at  the  Gaite  with  him  only  last  night !  ' '  she  said  to 
Sylvie. 

"Summon  your  philosophy,  mamma,"  Collin  resumed. 
"Is  it  a  misfortune  to  have  sat  in  my  box  at  the  Gait6  yester- 
day evening  ?  After  all,  are  you  better  than  we  are  ?  The 
brand  upon  our  shoulders  is  less  shameful  than  the  brand  set 
on  your  hearts,  you  flabby  members  of  a  society  rotten  to  the 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  213 

core.  Not  the  best  man  among  you  could  stand  up  to  me." 
His  eyes  rested  upon  Rastignac,  to  whom  he  spoke  with  a 
pleasant  smile  that  seemed  strangely  at  variance  with  the 
savage  expression  in  his  eyes.  "  Our  little  bargain  still  holds 
good,  dear  boy ;  you  can  accept  any  time  you  like  !  Do  you 
understand  ?  "     And  he  sang — 

"A  charming girlis  my  Fanchette 
In  her  simplicity. ^^ 

"  Don't  you  trouble  yourself,"  he  went  on  ;  "I  can  get  in 
my  money.  They  are  too  much  afraid  of  me  to  swindle 
roe. 

The  convicts*  prison,  its  language  and  customs,  its  sudden 
sharp  transitions  from  the  humorous  to  the  horrible,  its  ap- 
palling grandeur,  its  triviality  and  its  dark  depths,  were  all 
revealed  in  turn  by  the  speaker's  discourse;  he  seemed  to 
be  no  longer  a  man,  but  the  type  and  mouthpiece  of  a  degen- 
erate race,  a  brutal,  supple,  clear-headed  race  of  savages.  In 
one  moment  Collin  became  the  poet  of  an  inferno,  wherein 
all  thoughts  and  passions  that  move  human  nature  (save  re- 
pentance) find  a  place.  He  looked  about  him  like  a  fallen 
archangel  who  is  for  war  to  the  end.  Rastignac  lowered  his 
eyes,  and  acknowledged  this  kinship  claimed  by  crime  as  an 
expiation  of  his  own  evil  thoughts. 

"Who  betrayed  me?"  said  Collin,  and^his  terrible  eyes 
traveled  round  the  room.  Suddenly  they  rested  on  Mile. 
Michonneau. 

"  It  was  you,  old  cat !  "  he  said.     "  That  sham  stroke  of 

apoplexy  was  your  doing,  lynx-eyes ! Two  words  from 

me,  and  your  throat  would  be  cut  in  less  than  a  week,  but  I 
forgive  you,  I  am  a  Christian.     You  did  not  sell  me  either. 

But  who  did? Aha!  you  may  rummage  upstairs,"  he 

shouted,  hearing  the  police  officers  opening  his  cupboards 
and  taking  possession  of  his  effects.  "  The  nest  is  empty, 
the  birds  flew  away  yesterday,  and  you  will  be  none  the  wiser. 


214  FATHER   GORIOT. 

My  ledgers  are  here,"  he  said,  tapping  his  forehead.  "  Now 
I  know  who  sold  me  !  It  could  only  be  that  blackguard  Fil- 
de-Soie.  That  is  who  it  was,  old  catchpoll,  eh?"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  chief.  "  It  was  timed  so  neatly  to  get  the 
bank-notes  up  above  there.  There  is  nothing  left  for  you — 
spies !  As  for  Fil-de-Soie,  he  will  be  under  the  daisies  in  less 
than  a  fortnight,  even  if  you  were  to  tell  off  the  whole  force 
to  protect  him.  How  much  did  you  give  the  Michonneau  ?  " 
he  asked  of  the  police  officers.  "A  thousand  crowns?  Oh 
you-  Ninon  in  decay,  Pompadour  in  tatters,  Venus  of  the 
graveyard,  I  was  worth  more  than  that  !  If  you  had  given 
me  warning,  you  should  have  had  six  thousand  francs.  Ah ! 
you  had  no  suspicion  of  that,  old  trafficker  in  flesh  and  blood, 
or  I  should  have  had  the  preference.  Yes,  I  would  have  given 
six  thousand  francs  to  save  myself  an  inconvenient  journey  and 
some  loss  of  money,"  he  said,  as  they  fastened  the  handcuffs 
on  his  wrists.  "  These  folks  will  amuse  themselves  by  drag- 
ging out  this  business  till  the  end  of  time  to  keep  me  idle  ! 
If  they  were  to  send  me  straight  to  jail,  I  should  soon  be 
back  at  my  old  tricks  in  spite  of  the  duffers  at  the  Quai  des 
Orfevres.  Down  yonder  they  would  all  turn  themselves  inside 
out  to  help  their  general — their  good  Trompe-la-Mort — to  get 
clear  away.  Is  there  a  single  one  among  you  that  can  say  as 
I  can,  that  he  has  ten  thousand  brothers  ready  to  do  anything 
for  him  ?  "  he  asked  proudly.  "  There  is  some  good  there," 
he  said,  tapping  his  heart ;  "  I  have  never  betrayed  any  one  ! 
Look  you  here,  you  slut,"  he  said  to  the  old  maid,  "  they  are 
all  afraid  of  me,  do  you  see  ?  but  the  sight  of  you  turns  them 
sick.     Rake  in  your  gains." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  looked  round  at  the  lodg- 
ers' faces. 

"  What  dolts  you  are,  all  of  you  !  Have  you  never  seen  a 
convict  before?  A  convict  of  Collin's  stamp,  whom  you  see 
before  you,  is  a  man  less  weak-kneed  than  others ;  he  lifts  up 
his  voice  against  the  colossal  fraud  of  the  social   contract. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  215 

as  Jean  Jacques  did,  whose  pupil  he  is  proud  to  declare  him- 
self. In  short,  I  stand  here  single-handed  against  a  govern- 
ment and  a  whole  subsidized  machinery  of  tribunals  and 
police,  and  I  am  a  match  for  them  all." 

"  Ye  gods  !  "  cried  the  painter,  "  what  a  magnificent  sketch 
one  might  make  of  him  !  " 

"  Look  here,  you  gentlemen-in-waiting  to  his  highness  the 
gibbet,  master  of  ceremonies  to  the  widow  "  (a  nickname  full 
of  sombre  poetry,  given  by  prisoners  to  the  guillotine),  "  be 
a  good-fellow,  and  tell  me  if  it  really  was  Fil-de-Soie  who  sold 
me.  I  don't  want  him  to  suffer  for  some  one  else,  that  would 
not  be  fair." 

But  before  the  chief  had  time  to  answer,  the  rest  of  the 
party  returned  from  making  their  investigations  upstairs. 
Everything  had  been  opened  and  inventoried,  A  few  words 
passed  between  them  and  the  chief,  and  the  official  prelimin- 
aries were  complete. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Collin,  addressing  the  lodgers,  ''they 
will  take  me  away  directly.  You  have  all  made  my  stay  among 
you  very  agreeable,  and  I  shall  look  back  upon  it  with  grati- 
tude. Receive  my  adieux,  and  permit  me  to  send  you  figs 
from  Provence." 

He  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  then  turned  to  look  once 
more  at  Rastignac. 

"  Good-by,  Eugdne,"  he  said,  in  a  sad  and  gentle  tone,  a 
strange  transition  from  his  previous  rough  and  stern  manner. 
"  If  you  should  be  hard  up,  I  have  left  you  a  devoted  friend," 
and,  in  spite  of  his  shackles,  he  managed  to  assume  a  posture 
of  defense,  called,  "  One  !  two  !  "  like  a  fencing-master,  and 
lunged.  "  If  anything  goes  wrong,  apply  in  that  quarter. 
Man  and  money,  all  at  your  service." 

^The  speaker's  strange  manner  was  sufficiently  burlesque,  so 
that  no  one  but  Rastignac  knew  that  there  was  a  serious  mean- 
ing underlying  the  pantomime. 

As  soon  as  the  police,  soldiers,  and  detectives  had  left  the 


216  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

house,  Sylvie,  who  was  rubbing  her  mistress'  temples  with 
vinegar,  looked  round  at  the  bewildered  lodgers. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  *'  he  was  a  man,  he  was,  for  all  that." 

Her  words  broke  the  spell.  Every  one  had  been  too  much 
excited,  too  much  moved  by  very  various  feelings  to  speak. 
But  now  the  lodgers  began  to  look  at  each  other,  and  then  all 
eyes  were  turned  at  once  on  Mile.  Michonneau,  a  thin,  shriv- 
eled, dead-alive,  mummy-like  figure  crouching  by  the  stove ; 
her  eyes  were  downcast,  as  if  she  feared  that  the  green  eye- 
shade  could  not  shut  out  the  expression  of  those  faces  from 
her.  This  figure  and  the  feeling  of  repulsion  she  had  so  long 
excited  were  explained  all  at  once.  A  smothered  murmur 
filled  the  room  ;  it  was  so  unanimous  that  it  seemed  as  if  the 
same  feeling  of  loathing  had  pitched  all  the  voices  in  one  key. 
Mile.  Michonneau  heard  it,  and  did  not  stir.  It  was  Bianchon 
who  was  the  first  to  move ;  he  bent  over  his  neighbor,  and 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  If  that  creature  is  going  to  stop  here, 
and  have  dinner  with  us,  I  shall  clear  out." 

In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  it  was  clear  that  every  one  in 
the  room,  save  Poiret,  was  of  the  medical  student's  opinion, 
so  that  the  latter,  strong  in  the  support  of  the  majority,  went 
up  to  that  elderly  person. 

"You  are  more  intimate  with  Mile.  Michonneau  than  the 
rest  of  us,"  he  said;  "speak  to  her,  make  her  understand 
that  she  must  go,  and  go  at  once,"  showing  by  his  manner  a 
most  determined  spirit. 

"At  once  !  "  echoed  Poiret  in  amazement. 

Then  he  went  across  to  the  crouching  figure,  and  spoke  a 
few  words  in  her  ear. 

"  I  have  paid  beforehand  for  the  quarter ;  I  have  as  much 
right  to  be  here  as  any  one  else,"  she  said,  with  a  viperous 
look  at  the  boarders. 

"  Never  mind  that !  we  will  club  together  and  pay  you  the 
money  back,"  said  Rastignac. 

"Monsieur  is  taking  Collin's  part,"  she  said,  with  a  ques- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  217 

tioning,  malignant  glance  at  the  law  student ;  "  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  guess  why." 

Eugene  started  forward  at  the  words,  as  if  he  meant  to 
spring  upon  her  and  wring  her  neck.  That  glance,  and  the 
depths  of  treachery  that  it  revealed,  had  been  a  hideous  en- 
lightenment. 

"  Let  her  alone  !  "  cried  the  boarders. 

Rastignac  folded  his  arms,  and  was  silent. 

"Let  us  have  no  more  of  Mile.  Judas,"  said  the  painter, 
turning  to  Mme.  Vauquer.  "  If  you  don't  show  the  Michon- 
neau  the  door,  madame,  we  shall  all  leave  your  shop,  and 
wherever  we  go  we  shall  say  that  there  are  only  convicts  and 
spies  left  there.  If  you  do  the  other  thing,  we  will  hold  our 
tongues  about  the  business ;  for  when  all  is  said  and  done,  it 
might  happen  in  the  best  society  until  they  brand  them  on  the 
forehead,  when  they  send  them  to  the  hulks.  They  ought  not 
to  let  convicts  go  about  Paris  disguised  like  decent  citizens, 
so  as  to  carry  on  their  antics  like  a  set  of  rascally  humbugs, 
which  they  are." 

At  this  Mme.  Vauquer  recovered  miraculously.  She  sat  up 
and  folded  her  arms ;  her  eyes  were  wide  open  now,  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  tears  in  them. 

"  Why,  do  you  really  mean  to  be  the  ruin  of  my  establish- 
ment, my  dear  sir?     There  is  M.  Vautrin Goodness," 

she  cried,  interrupting  herself,  "  I  can't  help  calling  him  by 
the  name  he  passed  himself  off  by  for  an  honest  man  !  There 
is  one  room  to  let  already,  and  you  want  me  to  turn  out  two 
more  lodgers  in  the  middle  of  the  season,  when  no  one  is 
moving " 

"  Gentlemen,  let  us  take  our  hats  and  go  and  dine  at  Flico- 
teaux's  in  the  Place  Sorbonne,"  cried  Bianchon. 

Mme.  Vauquer  glanced  round,  and  saw  in  a  moment  on 
which  side  her  interest  lay.  She  waddled  across  to  Mile. 
Michonneau. 

"Come,  now,"  she  said  ;  "you  would  not  be  the  ruin  of 


218  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

my  establishment,  would  you,  eh  ?  There's  a  dear,  kind  soul. 
You  see  what  a  pass  these  gentlemen  have  brought  me  to ; 
just  go  up  to  your  room  for  this  evening." 

"  Never  a  bit  of  it !  "  cried  the  boarders,  "  She  must  go, 
and  go  this  minute  !  " 

"  But  the  poor  lady  has  had  no  dinner,"  said  Poiret,  with 
piteous  entreaty. 

"She  can  go  and  dine  where  she  likes,"  shouted  several 
voices. 

*'  Turn  her  out,  the  spy  !  " 

"  Turn  them  both  out !    Spies  !  " 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Poiret,  his  head  swelling  with  the 
courage  that  love  gives  to  the  ovine  male,  "  respect  the 
weaker  sex," 

"  Spies  are  of  no  sex  !  "  said  the  painter. 

"  A  precious  sexorama !  " 

"  Turn  her  into  the  streetorama  !  " 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  not  manners !  If  you  turn  people 
out  of  the  house,  it  ought  not  to  be  done  so  unceremoniously 
and  with  no  notice  at  all.  We  have  paid  our  money,  and  we 
are  not  going,"  said  Poiret,  putting  on  his  cap,  and  taking  a 
chair  beside  Mile.  Michonneau,  with  whom  Mme.  Vauquer 
was  remonstrating. 

"Naughty  boy!  "  said  the  painter,  with  a  comical  look; 
"  run  away,  naughty  little  boy  !  " 

"Look  here,"  said  Bianchon  ;  "if  you  do  not  go,  all  the 
rest  of  us  will,"  and  the  boarders,  to  a  man,  made  for  the 
sitting-room  door. 

"  Oh  !  mademoiselle,  what  is  to  be  done  ?  "  cried  Mme. 
Vauquer.  "I  am  a  ruined  woman.  You  can't  stay  here; 
they  will  go  farther,  do  something  violent." 

Mile.  Michonneau  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  She  is  going  !  She  is  not  going  !  She  is  going !  No, 
she  isn't." 

These  alternate  exclamations,  and  a  suggestion  of  hostile 


FATHER   GORIOT.  219 

intentions,  borne  out  by  the  behavior  of  the  insurgents,  com- 
pelled Mile.  Michonneau  to  take  her  departure.  She  made 
some  stipulations,  speaking  in  a  low  voice  in  her  hostess'  ear, 
and  then — "  I  shall  go  to  Mme.  Buneaud's,"  she  said,  with  a 
threatening  look. 

"  Go  where  you  please,  mademoiselle,"  said  Mme.  Vau- 
quer,  who  regarded  this  choice  of  an  opposition  establish- 
ment as  an  atrocious  insult.  "  Go  and  lodge  with  the 
Buneaud ;  the  wine  would  give  a  cat  the  colic,  and  the  food 
is  cheap  and  nasty." 

The  boarders  stood  aside  in  two  rows  to  let  her  pass ;  not  a 
word  was  spoken.  Poiret  looked  so  wistfully  after  Mile. 
Michonneau,  and  so  artlessly  revealed  that  he  was  in  two  minds 
whether  to  go  or  stay,  that  the  boarders,  in  their  joy  at  being 
quit  of  Mile.  Michonneau,  burst  out  laughing  at  the  sight  of 
him. 

"  Hist !— st !— st !  Poiret,"  shouted  the  painter.  "Hallo! 
I  say,  Poiret,  hallo  !  ' '  The  employe  from  the  Mus6um  began 
to  sing — 

'•  Partant  pour  la  Syrie, 
Le  jeune  at  beau  Dunois " 

"  Get  along  with  you ;  you  must  be  dying  to  go,  irahit  sua 
quemque  voluptas  /''  said  Bianchon. 

"  Every  one  to  his  taste — free  rendering  from  Virgil,"  said 
the  tutor. 

Mile.  Michonneau  made  a  movement  as  if  to  take  Poiret's 
arm,  with  an  appealing  glance  that  he  could  not  resist.  The 
two  went  out  together,  the  old  maid  leaning  upon  him,  and 
there  was  a  burst  of  applause,  followed  by  peals  of  laughter. 

*' Bravo,  Poiret!" 

"  Who  would  have  thought  it  of  old  Poiret !  " 

"Apollo  Poiret!  " 

«*Mars  Poiret!" 

"Intrepid  Poiret!" 


220  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

A  messenger  came  in  at  that  moment  with  a  letter  for  Mme. 
Vauquer,  who  read  it  through,  and  collapsed  in  her  chair. 

"  The  house  might  as  well  be  burnt  down  at  once,"  cried 
she,  "if  there  are  to  be  any  more  of  these  thunderbolts! 
Young  Taillefer  died  at  three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  It  serves 
me  right  for  wishing  well  to  those  ladies  at  that  poor  young 
man's  expense.  Mme.  Couture  and  Victorine  want  me  to 
send  their  things,  because  they  are  going  to  live  with  her 
father.  M.  Taillefer  allows  his  daughter  to  keep  old  Mme. 
Couture  with  her  as  lady  companion.  Four  rooms  to  let !  and 
five  lodgers  gone  ! " 

She  sat  up,  and  seemed  about  to  burst  into  tears. 

"  Bad  luck  has  come  to  lodge  here,  I  think,"  she  cried. 

Once  more  there  came  a  sound  of  wheels  from  the  street 
outside. 

"What!  another  windfall  for  somebody!"  was  Sylvie's 
comment. 

But  it  was  Goriot  who  came  in,  looking  so  radiant,  so 
flushed  with  happiness,  that  he  seemed  to  have  grown  young 
again. 

"Goriot  in  a  cab!  "  cried  the  boarders;  "the  world  is 
coming  to  an  end." 

The  good  soul  made  straight  for  Eugene,  who  was  standing 
rapt  in  thought  in  a  corner,  and  laid  a  hand  on  the  young 
man's  arm. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  with  gladness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Then  you  haven't  heard  the  news  ?  "  said  Eugene.  "  Vau- 
trin  was  an  escaped  convict ;  they  have  just  arrested  him ; 
and  young  Taillefer  is  dead." 

"Very  well,  but  what  business  is  it  of  ours ?"  replied 
Father  Goriot.  "  I  am  going  to  dine  with  my  daughter 
in  your  house,  do  you  understand?  She  is  expecting  you. 
Come!" 

He  carried  off  Rastignac  with  him  by  main  force,  and  they 
departed  in  as  great  a  hurry  as  a  pair  of  eloping  lovers. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  221 

"Now,  let  us  have  dinner,"  cried  the  painter,  and  every 
one  drew  his  chair  to  the  table. 

**  Well,  I  never?  "  said  the  portly  Sylvie.  "  Nothing  goes 
right  to-day  !  The  haricot  mutton  has  caught !  Bah  !  you 
will  have  to  eat  it,  burnt  as  it  is,  more's  the  pity !  " 

Mme.  Vauquer  was  so  dispirited  that  she  could  not  say  a  word 
as  she  looked  round  the  table  and  saw  only  ten  people  where 
eighteen  should  be ;  but  every  one  tried  to  comfort  and  cheer 
her.  At  first  the  dinner  contingent,  as  was  natural,  talked 
about  Vautrin  and  the  day's  events;  but  the  conversation 
wound  round  to  such  topics  of  interest  as  duels,  jails,  justice, 
prison  life,  and  alterations  that  ought  to  be  made  in  the  laws. 
They  soon  wandered  miles  away  from  Jacques  Collin  and 
Victorine  and  her  brother.  There  might  be  only  ten  of 
them,  but  they  made  noise  enough  for  twenty ;  indeed,  there 
seemed  to  be  more  of  them  than  usual;  that  was  the  only 
difference  between  yesterday  and  to-day.  Indifference  to  the 
fate  of  others  is  a  matter  of  course  in  this  selfish  world,  which, 
on  the  morrow  of  a  tragedy,  seeks  among  the  events  of  Paris 
for  a  fresh  sensation  for  its  daily  renewed  appetite,  and  this 
indifference  soon  gained  the  upper  hand.  Mme.  Vauquer 
herself  grew  calmer  under  the  soothing  influence  of  hope, 
and  the  mouthpiece  of  hope  was  the  portly  Sylvie. 

That  day  had  gone  by  like  a  dream  for  Eugene,  and  the 
sense  of  unreality  lasted  into  the  evening;  so  that,  in  spite 
of  his  energetic  character  and  clear-headedness,  his  ideas  were 
a  chaos  as  he  sat  beside  Goriot  in  the  cab.  The  old  man's 
voice  was  full  of  unwonted  happiness,  but  Eugene  had  been 
shaken  by  so  many  emotions  that  the  words  sounded  in  his 
ears  like  works  spoken  in  a  dream. 

"  It  was  finished  this  morning  !  All  three  of  us  are  going 
to  dine  there  together,  together !  Do  you  understand  ?  I 
have  not  dined  with  my  Delphine,  my  little  Delphine,  these 
four  years,  and  I  shall  have  her  for  a  whole  evening  !  We 
have  been  at  your    lodging  the    whole  time  since  morning. 


222  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

I  have  been  working  like  a  porter  in  my  shirt  sleeves,  help- 
ing to  carry  in  the  furniture.  Aha  !  you  don't  know  what 
pretty  ways  she  has ;  at  table  she  will  look  after  me,  '  Here, 
papa,  just  try  this,  it  is  nice.'  And  I  shall  not  be  able  to  eat. 
Oh,  it  is  a  long  while  since  I  have  been  with  her  in  quiet 
every-day  life  as  we  shall  have  her." 

**  It  really  seems  as  if  the  world  had  been  turned  upside 
down." 

"Upside  down?"  repeated  Father  Goriot.  "Why,  the 
world  has  never  been  so  right-side  up.  I  see  none  but  smiling 
faces  in  the  streets,  people  who  shake  hands  cordially  and 
embrace  each  other,  people  who  all  look  as  happy  as  if  they 
were  going  to  dine  with  their  daughter,  and  gobble  down  a 
nice  little  dinner  that  she  went  with  me  to  order  of  the  chef  at 
the  Caf6  des  Anglais.  But,  pshaw  !  with  her  beside  you  gall 
and  wormwood  would  be  as  sweet  as  honey. ' ' 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  coming  back  to  life  again,"  said 
Eugdne. 

"  Why,  hurry  up  there  !  "  cried  Father  Goriot,  letting  down 
the  window  in  front.  "Get  on  faster;  I  will  give  you  five 
francs  if  you  get  to  the  place  I  told  you  of  in  ten  minutes' 
time." 

With  this  prospect  before  him  the  cabman  crossed  Paris 
with  miraculous  celerity. 

"  How  that  fellow  crawls  !  "  said  Fatlier  Goriot. 

"  But  where  are  you  taking  me  ?  "  Eugene  asked  him. 

"  To  your  own  house,"  said  Goriot. 

The  cab  stopped  in  the  Rue  d'Artois.  Father  Goriot 
stepped  out  first  and  flung  ten  francs  to  the  man  with  the 
recklessness  of  a  widower  returning  to  bachelor  ways. 

"Come  along  upstairs,"  he  said  to  Rastignac.  They 
crossed  a  courtyard,  and  climbed  up  to  the  third  floor  of  a 
new  and  handsome  house.  Here  they  stopped  before  a  door ; 
but  before  Goriot  could  ring,  it  was  opened  by  Thdrdse,  Mme. 
de  Nucingen's  maid.     Eugdne  found  himself  in  a  charming 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  223 

set  of  chambers ;  an  ante-room,  a  little  drawing-room,  a  bed- 
room, and  a  study,  looking  out  upon  a  garden.  The  furniture 
and  the  decoration  of  the  little  drawing-room  were  of  the 
most  daintily  charming  description,  the  room  was  full  of  soft 
light,  and  Delphine  rose  up  from  a  low  chair  by  the  fire  and 
stood  before  him.  She  set  her  fire-screen  down  on  the 
chimney-piece,  and  spoke  with  tenderness  in  every  tone  of 
her  voice. 

"So  we  had  to  go  in  search  of  you,  sir,  you  who  are  so 
slow  to  understand  !  " 

Theresa  left  the  room.  The  student  took  Delphine  in  his 
arms  and  held  her  in  a  tight  clasp,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears 
of  joy.  This  last  contrast  between  his  present  surroundings 
and  the  scenes  he  had  just  witnessed  was  too  much  for  Rastig- 
nac's  overwrought  nerves,  after  the  day's  strain  and  excite- 
ment that  had  wearied  heart  and  brain ;  he  was  almost 
overcome  by  it, 

"  I  felt  sure  myself  that  he  loved  you,"  murmured  Father 
Goriot,  while  Eugene  lay  back  bewildered  on  the  sofa,  utterly 
unable  to  speak  a  word  or  to  reason  out  how  and  why  the 
magic  wand  had  been  waved  to  bring  about  this  final  trans- 
formation scene. 

"But  you  must  see  your  rooms,"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen. 
She  took  his  hand  and  led  him  into  a  room  carpeted  and  fur- 
nished like  her  own  ;  indeed,  down  to  the  smallest  details,  it 
was  a  reproduction  in  miniature  of  Delphine's  own  handsome 
apartment. 

"  There  is  no  bed,"  said  Rastignac. 

"  No,  monsieur,"  she  answered,  reddening,  and  pressing 
his  hand.  Eugene,  looking  at  her,  understood,  young  though 
he  yet  was,  how  deeply  modesty  is  implanted  in  the  heart  of 
a  woman  who  loves. 

"  You  are  one  of  those  beings  whom  we  cannot  choose  but 
to  adore  for  ever,"  he  said  in  her  ear.  "  Yes,  the  deeper  and 
truer  love  is,  the  more  mysterious  and  closely  veiled  it  should 


224  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

be ;  I  can  dare  to  say  so,  since  we  understand  each  other  so 
well.     No  one  shall  learn  our  secret." 

"  Oh  !  so  I  am  nobody,  I  suppose,"  growled  the  father. 
"  You  know  quite  well  that  *  we  '  means  you." 
"  Ah  !  that  is  what  I  wanted.     You  will  not  mind  me,  will 
you  ?     I  shall  go  and  come  like  a  good  fairy  who  makes  him- 
self felt  everywhere  without  being  seen,   shall  I  not?     Eh, 
Delphinette,  Ninette,  Dedel — was  it  not  a  good  idea  of  mine 
to  say  to  you,  *  There  are  some  nice  rooms  to  let  in  the  Rue 
d' Artois ;  let  us  furnish  them  for  him  ? '     And  she  would  not 
hear  of  it  I     Ah  !  your  happiness  has  been  all  my  doing.     I 
am   the   author   of  your    happiness   and  of  your   existence. 
Fathers  must  always  be  giving  if  they  would  be  happy  them- 
selves ;  always  giving — they  would  not  be  fathers  else." 
*'  Was  that  how  it  happened  ?  "  asked  Eugdne. 
"Yes.     She  would  not  listen  to  me.     She  was  afraid  that 
people  would  talk,  as  if  the  rubbish  that  they  say  about  you 
were  to  be  compared  with  happiness  !     Why,  all  women  dream 

of  doing  what  she  has  done " 

Father  Goriot  found  himself  without  an  audience,  for  Mme. 
de  Nucingen  had  led  Rastignac  into  the  study ;  he  heard  a 
kiss  given  and  taken,  low  though  the  sound  was. 

The  study  was  furnished  as  elegantly  as  the  other  rooms, 
and  nothing  was  wanting  there. 

"Have  we  guessed  your  wishes  rightly?"  she  asked,  as 
they  returned  to  the  drawing-room  for  dinner. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  **  only  too  well,  alas  !  For  all  this  luxury 
so  well  carried  out,  this  realization  of  pleasant  dreams,  the 
elegance  that  satisfies  all  the  romantic  fancies  of  youth, 
appeals  to  me  so  strongly  that  I  cannot  but  feel  that  it  is  my 
rightful  possession,  but  I  cannot  accept  it  from  you,  and  I  am 

too  poor  as  yet  to " 

"  Ah  !  ah !  you  say  me  nay  already,"  she  said  with  arch 
imperiousness,  and  a  charming  little  pout  of  the  lips,  a 
woman's  way  of  laughing  away  scruples. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  225 

But  Eugene  had  submitted  so  lately  to  that  solemn  self- 
questioning,  and  Vautrin's  arrest  had  so  plainly  shown  him 
the  depths  of  the  pit  that  lay  ready  to  his  feet,  that  the 
instincts  of  generosity  and  honor  had  been  strengthened  in 
him,  and  he  could  not  allow  himself  to  be  coaxed  into  aban- 
doning his  high-minded  determinations.  Profound  melancholy 
filled  his  mind. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  refuse  ?  "  said  Mrae.  de  Nucingen. 
"  And  do  you  know  what  such  a  refusal  means?  That  you 
are  not  sure  of  yourself,  that  you  do  not  dare  to  bind  yourself 
to  me.  Are  you  really  afraid  of  betraying  my  affection  ?  If 
you  love  me,  if  I — love  you,  why  should  you  shrink  back 
from  such  a  slight  obligation  ?  If  you  but  knew  what  a  pleas- 
ure it  has  been  to  see  after  all  the  arrangements  of  this  bachelor 
establishment,  you  would  not  hesitate  any  longer,  you  would 
ask  me  to  forgive  you  for  your  hesitation.  I  had  some  money 
that  belonged  to  you,  and  I  have  made  good  use  of  it,  that  is 
all.     You  mean  this  for  magnanimity,  but  it  is  very  little  of 

you.     You  are  asking  me  for  far  more  than  this ('Ah!' 

she  cried,  as  Eugene's  passionate  glance  was  turned  on  her), 
and  you  are  making  difficulties  about  the  merest  trifles.  Oh, 
if  you  feel  no  love  whatever  for  me,  refuse,  by  all  means. 
My  fate  hangs  on  a  word  from  you.  Speak!  Father,"  she 
said  after  a  pause,  "make  him  listen  to  reason.  Can  he 
imagine  that  I  am  less  nice  than  he  is  on  the  point  of  honor?" 

Father  Goriot  was  looking  on  and  listening  to  this  pretty 
quarrel  with  a  placid  smile,  as  if  he  had  found  some  balm  for 
all  the  sorrows  of  life. 

**  Child  that  you  are  !  "  she  cried  again,  catching  Eugene's 
hand.  "  You  are  just  beginning  life  ;  you  find  barriers  at  the 
outset  that  many  a  man  finds  insurmountable ;  a  woman's 
hand  opens  the  way,  and  you  shrink  back  !  Why,  you  are 
sure  to  succeed  !  You  will  have  a  brilliant  future.  Success 
is  written  on  that  broad  forehead  of  yours,  and  will  you  not 
be  able  to  repay  me  my  loan  of  to-day  ?  Did  not  a  lady  in 
15 


226  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

olden  times  arm  her  knight  with  sword  and  helmet  and  coat 
of  mail,  and  find  him  a  charger,  so  that  he  might  fight  for  her 
in  the  tournament  ?  Well,  then,  Eugene,  these  things  that  I 
offer  you  are  the  weapons  of  this  age ;  every  one  who  means 
to  be  something  must  have  such  tools  as  these.  A  pretty 
place  your  garret  must  be  if  it  is  like  papa's  room !  See, 
dinner  is  waiting  all  this  time.  Do  you  want  to  make  me 
unhappy?  Why  don't  you  answer?"  she  said,  shaking  his 
hand.  "  Mon  Dieu  !  papa,  make  up  his  mind  for  him,  or  I 
will  go  away  and  never  see  him  any  more." 

"I  will  make  up  your  mind,"  said  Goriot,  coming  down 
from  the  clouds.  *'Now,  my  dear  M.  Eugene,  the  next 
thing  is  to  borrow  money  of  the  Jews,  isn't  it?" 

"There  is  positively  no  help  for  it,"  said  Eugene. 

"All  right,  I  will  give  you  credit,"  said  the  other,  drawing 
out  a  cheap  leather  pocket-book,  much  the  worse  for  wear. 
"  I  have  turned  Jew  myself;  I  have  paid  for  everything  ;  here 
are  the  invoices.  You  do  not  owe  a  penny  for  anything  here. 
It  did  not  come  to  very  much — five  thousand  francs  at  most, 
and  I  am  going  to  lend  you  the  money  myself.  I  am  not  a 
woman — you  cannot  refuse  me.  You  shall  give  me  a  receipt 
on  a  scrap  of  paper,  and  you  can  return  it  some  time  or  other." 

Delphine  and  Eugene  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement, 
tears  sprang  to  their  eyes.  Rastignac  held  out  his  hand  and 
grasped  Goriot's  warmly. 

"  Well,  what  is  all  this  about  ?   Are  you  not  my  children  ?" 

"Oh!  my  poor  father,"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  "how 
did  you  do  it?" 

"Ah  !  now  you  ask  me.  When  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
move  him  nearer  to  you,  and  saw  you  buying  things  as  if  they 
were  wedding  presents,  I  said  to  myself,  '  She  will  never  be 
able  to  pay  for  them.'  The  attorney  says  that  those  law  pro- 
ceedings will  last  quite  six  months  before  your  husband  can  be 
made  to  disgorge  your  fortune.  Well  and  good.  I  sold  out 
my  property  in  the  funds  that  brought  in  thirteen  hundred  and 


FATFIER    GO  RIOT.  227 

fifty  Hvres  a  year,  and  bought  a  safe  annuity  of  twelve  hundred 
francs  a  year  for  fifteen  thousand  francs.  Then  I  paid  your 
tradesmen  out  of  the  rest  of  the  capital.  As  for  me,  children, 
I  have  a  room  upstairs  for  which  1  pay  fifty  crowns  a  year ;  I 
can  live  like  a  prince  on  two  francs  a  day,  and  still  have 
something  left  over.  I  shall  not  have  to  spend  anything 
much  on  clothes,  for  I  never  wear  anything  out.  This  fort- 
night past  I  have  been  laughing  in  my  sleeves,  thinking  to 
myself,  *  How  happy  they  are  going  to  be ! '  and — well,  now, 
are  you  not  happy?  " 

"Oh  papa!  papa!"  cried  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  springing 
to  her  father,  who  took  her  on  his  knee.  She  covered  him 
with  kisses,  her  fair  hair  brushed  his  cheek,  her  tears  fell  on 
the  withered  face  that  had  grown  so  bright  and  radiant. 

"Dear  father,  what  a  father  you  are!  No,  there  is  not 
another  father  like  you  under  the  sun.  If  Eugene  loved  you 
before,  what  must  he  feel  for  you  now  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  children  !  why,  Delphinette  !  "  cried  Goriot,  who 
had  not  felt  his  daughter's  heart  beat  against  his  breast  for  ten 
years,  "  do  you  want  me  to  die  of  joy  ?  My  poor  heart  will 
break!  Come,  Monsieur  Eugene,  we  are  quits  already." 
And  the  old  man  strained  her  to  his  breast  with  such  fierce 
and  passionate  force  that  she  cried  out. 
"  Oh  !  you  are  hurting  me  !  "  she  said. 
"I  am  hurting  you  !  "  He  grew  pale  at  the  words.  The 
pain  expressed  in  his  face  seemed  greater  than  it  is  given  to 
humanity  to  know.  The  agony  of  this  Christ  of  paternity 
can  only  be  compared  with  the  masterpieces  of  those  princes 
of  the  palette  who  have  left  for  us  the  record  of  their  visions 
of  an  agony  suffered  for  a  whole  world  by  the  Saviour  of  men. 
Father  Goriot  pressed  his  lips  very  gently  against  the  waist 
that  his  fingers  had  grasped  too  roughly. 

"Oh!  no,  no,"  he  cried.  "I  have  not  hurt  you,  have 
I?"  and  his  smile  seemed  to  repeat  the  question.  ^^You 
have  hurt  me  with  that  cry  just  now.     The  things  cost  rather 


228  FATHER   GORIOT. 

more  than  that,"  he  said  in  her  ear,  with  another  gentle  kiss, 
**  but  I  had  to  deceive  him  about  it,  or  he  would  have  been 
angry." 

Eugene  sat  dumb  with  amazement  in  the  presence  of  this 
inexhaustible  love  ;  he  gazed  at  Goriot,  and  his  face  betrayed 
the  artless  admiration  which  shapes  the  beliefs  of  youth. 

**  I  will  be  worthy  of  all  this,"  he  cried. 

**  Oh !  my  Eugene,  that  is  nobly  said,"  and  Mme.  de 
Nucingen  kissed  the  law  student  on  the  forehead. 

"  He  gave  up  Mile.  Taillefer  and  her  millions  for  you," 
said  Father  Goriot.  "  Yes,  the  little  thing  was  in  love  with 
you,  and  now  that  her  brother  is  dead  she  is  as  rich  as 
Croesus." 

*'  Oh  !  why  did  you  tell  her?  "  cried  Rastignac. 

"  Eugdne,"  Delphine  said  in  his  ear,  "I  have  one  regret 
now  this  evening.     Ah  !  how  I  will  love  you  !  and  for  ever  !  " 

"This  is  the  happiest  day  I  have  had  since  you  two  became 
acquainted  !  "  cried  Goriot.  "  God  may  send  me  any  suffer- 
ing, so  long  as  I  do  not  suffer  through  you,  and  I  can  still  say, 
*  In  this  short  month  of  February  I  had  more  happiness  than 
other  men  have  in  their  whole  lives.'  Look  at  me,  Fifine  !  " 
he  said  to  his  daughter.  "  She  is  very  beautiful,  is  she  not? 
Tell  me,  now,  have  you  seen  many  women  with  that  pretty 
soft  color — that  little  dimple  of  hers  ?  No,  I  thought  not. 
Ah,  well,  and  but  for  me  this  lovely  woman  would  never  have 
been.  And  very  soon  happiness  will  make  her  a  thousand 
times  lovelier,  happiness  through  you.  I  could  give  up  my 
place  in  heaven  to  you,  neighbor,  if  needs  be,  and  go  down 
to  hell  instead.  Come,  let  us  have  dinner,"  he  added, 
scarcely  knowing  what  he  said,  "everything  is  ours." 

"Poor  dear  father!  " 

He  rose  and  went  over  to  her,  and  took  her  face  in  his 
hands,  and  set  a  kiss  on  the  plaits  of  hair.  "  If  you  only 
knew,  little  one,  how  happy  you  can  make  me — how  little  it 
takes  to  make  me  happy  !     Will  you  come  and  see  me  some- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  229 

times  ?    I  shall  be  just  above,  so  it  is  only  a  step.     Promise 
me,  say  that  you  will  !  " 

"Yes,  dear  father." 

"Say  it  again." 

"Yes,  I  will,  my  kind  father." 

"  Hush,  hush  !  I  should  make  you  say  it  a  hundred  times 
over  if  I  followed  my  own  wishes.     Let  us  have  dinner." 

The  three  behaved  like  children  that  evening,  and  Father 
Goriot's  spirits  were  certainly  not  the  least  wild.  He  lay  at 
his  daughter's  feet,  kissed  them,  gazed  into  her  eyes,  rubbed 
his  head  against  her  dress;  in  short,  no  young  lover  could 
have  been  more  extravagant  or  more  tender. 

"You  see!"  Delphine  said  with  a  look  at  Eugene,  "so 
long  as  ray  father  is  with  us,  he  monopolizes  me.  He  will  be 
rather  in  the  way  sometimes." 

Eugene  had  himself  already  felt  certain  twinges  of  jealousy, 
and  could  not  blame  this  speech  that  contained  the  germ  of 
all  ingratitude. 

"And  when  will  the  rooms  be  ready?"  asked  Eugene, 
looking  round.  "We  must  all  leave  them  this  evening,  I 
suppose." 

"Yes,  but  to-morrow  you  must  come  and  dine  with  me," 
she  answered,  with  an  eloquent  glance.  "  It  is  our  night  at 
the  Italiens." 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  pit,"  said  her  father. 

It  was  midnight.  Mme.  de  Nucingen's  carriage  was  wait- 
ing for  her,  and  Father  Goriot  and  the  student  walked  back 
to  the  Maison  Vauquer,  talking  of  Delphine,  and  warming 
over  their  talk  till  there  grew  up  a  curious  rivalry  between  the 
two  violent  passions.  Eugene  could  not  help  seeing  that  the 
father's  selfish  love  was  deeper  and  more  steadfast  than  his 
own.  For  this  worshiper  Delphine  was  always  pure  and  fair, 
and  her  father's  admiration  drew  its  fervor  from  a  whole  past 
as  well  as  a  future  of  love. 

They  found  Mme.  Vauquer  by  the  stove,  with  Sylvie  and 


230  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Christophe  to  keep  her  company;  the  old  landlady,  sitting 
like  Marius  among  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  was  waiting  for  the 
two  lodgers  that  yet  remained  to  her,  and  bemoaning  her  lot 
with  the  sympathetic  Sylvie.  Tasso's  lamentations  as  recorded 
in  Byron's  poem  are  undoubtedly  eloquent,  but  for  sheer  force 
of  truth  they  fall  far  short  of  the  widow's  cry  from  the  depths. 

"  Only  three  cups  of  coffee  in  the  morning,  Sylvie  !  Oh, 
dear !  to  have  your  house  emptied  in  this  way  is  enough  to 
break  your  heart.  What  is  life,  now  my  lodgers  are  gone  ? 
Nothing  at  all.  Just  think  of  it !  It  is  just  as  if  all  the  furni- 
ture had  been  taken  out  of  the  house,  and  your  furniture  is 
your  life.  How  have  I  offended  heaven  to  draw  down  all  this 
trouble  upon  me  ?  And  haricot  beans  and  potatoes  laid  in 
for  twenty  people  !  The  police  in  my  house,  too  !  We  shall 
have  to  live  on  potatoes  now,  and  Christophe  will  have  to  go !  " 

The  Savoyard,  who  was  fast  asleep,  suddenly  woke  up  at 
this,  and  said,  ''  Madame?"  questioningly. 

" Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Sylvie,  "he  is  like  a  dog." 

**  In  the  dead  season,  too !  Nobody  is  moving  now.  I 
would  like  to  know  where  the  lodgers  are  to  drop  down  from. 
It  drives  me  distracted.  And  that  old  witch  of  a  Michonneau 
goes  and  takes  Poiret  with  her  !  What  can  she  have  done  to 
him  to  make  him  so  fond  of  her  ?  He  runs  about  after  her 
like  a  little  dog." 

"Lord!"  said  Sylvie,  flinging  up  her  head,  "those  old 
maids  are  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks." 

"  There's  that  poor  M.  Vautrin  that  they  made  out  to  be  a 
convict,"  the  widow  went  on.  "Well,  you  know  that  is  too 
much  for  me,  Sylvie ;  I  can't  bring  myself  to  believe  it. 
Such  a  lively  man  as  he  was,  and  paid  fifteen  francs  a  month 
for  his  coffee  of  an  evening,  paid  you  every  penny  on  the  nail 
too." 

"  And  open-handed  he  was  !  "  said  Christophe. 

"  There  is  some  mistake,"  said  Sylvie. 

"Why,  no  there  isn't!  he  said  so  himself!"  said  Mme. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  231 

Vauquer.  "And  to  think  that  all  these  things  have  hap- 
pened in  my  house,  and  in  a  quarter  where  you  never  see 
a  cat  go  by.  On  my  word  as  an  honest  woman,  it's  like  a 
dream.  For,  look  here,  we  saw  Louis  XVI.  meet  with  his 
mishap ;  we  saw  the  fall  of  the  Emperor ;  and  we  saw  him 
come  back  and  fall  again  ;  there  was  nothing  out  of  the 
way  in  all  that,  but  lodging-houses  are  not  liable  to  revolu- 
tions. You  can  do  without  a  king,  but  you  must  eat  all  the 
same ;  and  so  long  as  a  decent  woman,  a  de  Conflans  born 
and  bred,  will  give  you  all  sorts  of  good  things  for  dinner, 
nothing  short  of  the  end  of  the  world  ought  to — but  there, 
it  is  the  end  of  the  world,  that  is  just  what  it  is!" 

"And  to  think  that  Mile.  Michonneau  who  made  all 
this  mischief  is  to  have  a  thousand  crowns  a  year  for  it, 
so  I  hear,"  cried  Sylvie. 

"  Don't  speak  of  her,  she  is  a  wicked  woman  !  "  said 
Mme.  Vauquer.  "  She  is  going  to  the  Buneaud,  who 
charges  less  than  cost.  But  the  Buneaud  is  capable  of 
anything;  she  must  have  done  frightful  things,  robbed  and 
murdered  people  in  her  time.  She  ought  to  be  put  in  jail  for 
life  instead  of  that  poor  dear " 

Eugene  and  Goriot,  reaching  the  Maison  Vauquer,  rang  the 
door-bell  at  that  moment. 

"  Ah  !  here  are  my  two  faithful  lodgers,"  said  the  widow, 
sighing. 

But  the  two  faithful  lodgers,  who  retained  but  shadowy 
recollections  of  the  misfortunes  of  their  lodging-house,  an- 
nounced to  their  hostess  without  more  ado  that  they  were 
about  to  remove  to  the  Chaussee  d'Antin. 

"  Sylvie  !  "  cried  the  widow,  "  this  is  the  last  straw.  Gen- 
tlemen, this  will  be  the  death  of  me !  It  has  quite  upset 
me !  There's  a  weight  on  my  chest  !  I  am  ten  years 
older  for  this  day !  Upon  my  word,  I  shall  go  out  of 
my  senses  1  And  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  haricots? 
Oh,  well,  if  I   am  to  be  left  here  all  by  myself,  you  shall 


232  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

go  to-morrow,  Christophe.  Good-night,  gentlemen,"  and 
she  went  upstairs. 

"  What  is  the  matter  now  ?  "  Eugene  inquired  of  Sylvie,  in 
much  astonishment. 

"  Lord  !  everybody  is  going  about  his  business,  and  that 
has  addled  her  wits.  There  !  she  is  crying  upstairs.  It  will 
do  her  good  to  snivel  a  bit.  It's  the  first  time  she  has 
cried  since  I've  been  with  her." 

By  the  morning,  Mme.  Vauquer,  to  use  her  own  expression, 
had  "  made  up  her  mind  to  it."  True,  she  still  wore  a  doleful 
countenance,  as  might  be  expected  of  a  woman  who  had  lost 
all  her  lodgers,  and  whose  manner  of  life  had  been  suddenly 
revolutionized,  but  she  had  all  her  wits  about  her.  Her  grief 
was  genuine  and  profound ;  it  was  real  pain  of  mind,  for  her 
purse  had  suffered,  the  routine  of  her  existence  had  been 
broken.  A  lover's  farewell  glance  at  his  lady-love's  window 
is  not  more  mournful  than  Mme.  Vauquer's  survey  of  the 
empty  places  round  her  table.  Eugene  administered  comfort, 
telling  the  widow  that  Bianchon,  whose  term  of  residence  at 
the  hospital  was  about  to  expire,  would  doubtless  take  his 
(Rastignac's)  place ;  that  the  official  from  the  Museum  had 
often  expressed  a  desire  to  have  Mme.  Couture's  room ;  and 
that  in  a  very  few  days  her  household  would  be  on  the  old 
footing. 

"  God  send  it  may,  my  dear  sir  !  but  bad  luck  has  come  to 
lodge  here.  There'll  be  a  death  in  the  house  before  ten  days 
are  out,  you'll  see,"  and  she  gave  a  lugubrious  look  around  the 
dining-room.     "  Whose  turn  will  it  be,  I  wonder  ?  " 

'*  It  is  just  as  well  that  we  are  moving  out,"  said  Eugdne  to 
Father  Goriot  in  a  low  voice. 

**  Madame,"  said  Sylvie,  running  in  with  a  scared  face,  **I 
have  not  seen  Mistigris  these  three  days." 

"Ah  !  well,  if  my  cat  is  dead,  if  he  has  gone  and  left  us, 
I " 

The  poor  woman  could  not  finish  lier  sentence ;  she  clasped 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  233 

her  hands  and  hid  her  face  on  the  back  of  her  armchair,  quite 
overcome  by  this  dreadful  portent. 

By  twelve  o'clock,  when  the  postman  reaches  that  quarter, 
Eugene  received  a  letter.  The  dainty  envelope  bore  the 
Beauseant  arms  on  the  seal,  and  contained  an  invitation  to 
the  Vicoratesse's  great  ball,  which  had  been  talked  of  in  Paris 
for  a  month.  A  little  note  for  Eugene  was  slipped  in  with 
the  card. 

**  I  think,  monsieur,  that  you  will  undertake  with  pleasure 
to  interpret  my  sentiments  to  Mrae.  de  Nucingen,  so  I  am 
sending  the  card  for  which  you  asked  me  to  you.  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mme.  de  Restaud's 
sister.  Pray  introduce  that  charming  lady  to  me,  and  do  not 
let  her  monopolize  all  your  affection,  for  you  owe  me  not  a 
little  in  return  for  mine. 

"ViCOMTESSE   DE  BEAUSfeANT." 

**  Well,"  said  Eugene  to  himself,  as  he  read  the  note  a 
second  time,  *'  Mme.  de  Beauseant  says  pretty  plainly  that 
she  does  not  want  the  Baron  de  Nucingen." 

He  went  to  Delphine  at  once  in  his  joy.  He  had  procured 
this  pleasure  for  her,  and  doubtless  he  would  receive  the  price 
of  it.  Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  dressing.  Rastignac  waited 
in  her  boudoir,  enduring  as  best  he  might  the  natural  impa- 
tience of  an  eager  temperament  for  the  reward  desired  and 
withheld  for  a  year.  Such  sensations  are  only  known  once  in 
a  life.  The  first  woman  to  whom  a  man  is  drawn,  if  she  is 
really  a  woman — that  is  to  say,  if  she  appears  to  him  amid 
the  splendid  accessories  that  form  a  necessary  background  to 
life  in  the  world  of  Paris — will  never  have  a  rival. 

Love  in  Paris  is  a  thing  distinct  and  apart ;  for  in  Paris 
neither  men  nor  women  are  the  dupes  of  the  commonplaces 
by  which  people  seek  to  throw  a  veil  over  their  motives,  or  to 
parade  a  fine  affectation  of  disinterestedness  in  their  senti- 


284  FATHER   GORIOT. 

ments.  In  this  country  within  a  country,  it  is  not  merely 
required  of  a  woman  that  she  should  satisfy  the  senses  and  the 
soul ;  she  knows  perfectly  well  that  she  has  still  greater  obliga- 
tions to  discharge,  that  she  must  fulfill  the  countless  demands 
of  a  vanity  that  enters  into  every  fibre  of  that  living  organism 
called  society.  Love,  for  her,  is  above  all  things,  and  by  its 
very  nature,  a  vainglorious,  brazen-fronted,  ostentatious, 
thriftless  charlatan.  If  at  the  court  of  Louis  XIV.  there  was 
not  a  woman  but  envied  Mile,  de  la  Vallidre  the  reckless 
devotion  of  passion  that  led  the  grand  monarch  to  tear  the 
priceless  ruffles  at  his  wrists  in  order  to  assist  the  entry  of  a 
Due  de  Vermandois  into  the  world — what  can  you  expect  of 
the  rest  of  society  ?  You  must  have  youth  and  wealth  and 
rank ;  nay,  you  must,  if  possible,  have  more  than  these,  for 
the  more  incense  you  bring  with  you  to  burn  at  the  shrine  of 
the  god,  the  more  favorably  will  he  regard  the  worshiper. 
Love  is  a  religion,  and  his  cult  must  in  the  nature  of  things 
be  more  costly  than  those  of  all  other  deities  ;  love  the  spoiler 
stays  for  a  moment,  and  then  passes  on  ;  like  the  urchin  of 
the  streets,  his  course  may  be  traced  by  the  ravages  that  he 
has  made.  The  wealth  of  feeling  and  imagination  is  the 
poetry  of  the  garret ;  how  should  love  exist  there  without 
that  wealth  ? 

If  there  are  exceptions  who  do  not  subscribe  to  these  Dra- 
conian laws  of  the  Parisian  code,  they  are  solitary  examples. 
Such  souls  live  so  far  out  of  the  main  current  that  they  are 
not  borne  away  by  the  doctrines  of  society  ;  they  dwell  beside 
some  clear  spring  of  ever-flowing  water,  without  seeking  to 
leave  the  green  shade ;  happy  to  listen  to  the  echoes  of  the 
infinite  in  everything  around  them  and  in  their  own  souls, 
waiting  in  patience  to  take  their  flight  for  heaven,  while  they 
look  with  pity  upon  those  of  earth. 

Rastignac,  like  most  young  men  who  have  been  early 
impressed  by  the  circumstance  of  power  and  grandeur,  meant 
to  enter  the  lists  fully  armed  ;  the  burning  ambition  of  con- 


FATHER    GORIOT.  236 

quest  possessed  him  already ;  perhaps  he  was  conscious  of  his 
powers,  but  as  yet  he  knew  neither  the  end  to  which  his 
ambition  was  to  be  directed  nor  the  means  of  attaining  it. 
In  default  of  the  pure  and  sacred  love  that  fills  a  life,  ambi- 
tion may  become  something  very  noble,  subduing  to  itself 
every  thought  of  personal  interest,  and  setting  as  the  end — 
the  pre-eminent  greatness,  not  of  one  man,  but  of  a  whole 
nation. 

But  the  student  had  not  yet  reached  the  time  of  life  when 
a  man  surveys  the  whole  course  of  existence  and  judges  it 
soberly.  Hitherto  he  had  scarcely  so  much  as  shaken  off  the 
spell  of  the  fresh  and  gracious  influences  that  envelop  a  child- 
hood in  the  country,  like  green  leaves  and  grass.  He  had 
hesitated  on  the  brink  of  the  Parisian  Rubicon,  and,  in  spite 
of  the  prickings  of  ambition,  he  still  clung  to  a  lingering 
tradition  of  an  old  ideal — the  peaceful  life  of  the  noble  in  his 
chateau.  But  yesterday  evening,  at  the  sight  of  his  rooms, 
those  scruples  had  vanished.  He  had  learned  what  it  was  to 
enjoy  the  material  advantages  of  fortune,  as  he  had  already 
enjoyed  the  social  advantages  of  birth ;  he  ceased  to  be  a 
provincial  from  that  moment,  and  slipped  naturally  and 
easily  into  a  position  which  opened  up  the  prospect  of  a  brilliant 
future. 

So,  as  he  waited  for  Delphine,  in  the  pretty  boudoir, 
where  he  felt  that  he  had  a  certain  right  to  be,  he  felt 
himself  so  far  away  from  the  Rastignac  who  came  back  to 
Paris  a  year  ago,  that,  turning  some  power  of  inner  vision 
upon  this  latter,  he  asked  himself  whether  that  past  self  bore 
any  resemblance  to  the  Rastignac  of  that  moment. 

"  Madame  is  in  her  room,"  Th^rdse  came  to  tell  him.  The 
woman's  voice  made  him  start. 

He  found  Delphine  lying  back  in  her  low  chair  by  the  fire- 
side, looking  fresh  and  bright.  The  sight  of  her  among  the 
flowing  draperies  of  muslin  suggested  some  beautiful  tropical 
flower,  where  the  fruit  is  set  amid  the  blossom. 


286  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  "here  you 
are." 

**  Guess  what  I  bring  for  you,"  said  Eugene,  sitting  down 
beside  her.     He  took  possession  of  her  arm  to  kiss  her  hand. 

Mme.  de  Nucingen  gave  a  joyful  start  as  she  saw  the  card. 
She  turned  to  Eugene ;  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 
flung  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  drew  him  towards  her  in  a 
frenzy  of  gratified  vanity. 

**  And  I  owe  this  happiness  to  you — to  thee**  (she  whis- 
pered the  more  intimate  word  in  his  ear)  ;  "  but  Ther^se  is  in 
my  dressing-room,  let  us  be  prudent.  This  happiness — yes, 
for  I  may  call  it  so,  when  it  comes  to  me  through  you — is 
surely  more  than  a  triumph  for  self-love  ?  No  one  has  been 
willing  to  introduce  me  into  that  set.  Perhaps  just  now  I 
may  seem  to  you  to  be  frivolous,  petty,  shallow,  like  a  Paris- 
ienne,  but  remember,  my  friend,  that  I  am  ready  to  give  up  all 
for  you ;  and  that  if  I  long  more  than  ever  for  an  entrance 
into  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  it  is  because  I  shall  meet 
you  there." 

"  Mme.  de  Beaus6ant's  note  seems  to  say  very  plainly  that 
she  does  not  expect  to  see  the  Baron  de  Nucingen  at  her  ball ; 
don't  you  think  so  ?  "  said  Eugdne. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  the  Baroness  as  she  returned  the  letter. 
"Those  women  have  a  talent  for  insolence.  But  it  is  of  no 
consequence,  I  shall  go.  My  sister  is  sure  to  be  there,  and 
sure  to  be  very  beautifully  dressed.  Eugene,"  she  went  on, 
lowering  her  voice,  "she  will  go  to  dispel  ugly  suspicions. 
You  do  not  know  the  things  that  people  are  saying  about 
her  !  Only  this  morning  Nucingen  came  to  tell  me  that  they 
had  been  discussing  her  at  the  club.  Great  heavens  !  on  what 
does  a  woman's  character  and  the  honor  of  a  whole  family 
depend  !  I  feel  that  I  am  nearly  touched  and  wounded  in 
my  poor  sister.  According  to  some  people,  M.  de  Trailles 
must  have  put  his  name  to  bills  for  a  hundred  thousand  francs, 
nearly  all  of  them  are  overdue,  and  proceedings  are  threat- 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  237 

ened.  In  this  predicament,  it  seems  that  my  sister  sold  her 
diamonds  to  a  Jew — the  beatiful  diamonds  that  belonged  to 
her  husband's  mother,  Mme.  de  Restaud  the  elder — you  have 
seen  her  wearing  them.  In  fact,  nothing  else  has  been  talked 
about  for  the  last  two  days.  So  I  can  see  that  Anastasie  is 
sure  to  come  to  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  ball  in  tissue  of  gold, 
and  ablaze  with  diamonds,  to  draw  all  eyes  upon  her  ;  and  I 
will  not  be  outshone.  She  has  tried  to  eclipse  me  all  her  life; 
she  has  never  been  kind  to  me,  and  I  have  helped  her  so 
often,  and  always  had  money  for  her  when  she  had  none. 
But  never  mind  other  people  now,  to-day  I  mean  to  be  per- 
fectly happy." 

At  one  o'clock  that  morning  Eugene  was  still  with  Mme. 
de  Nucingen.  In  the  midst  of  their  lovers'  farewell,  a  fare- 
well full  of  hope  of  bliss  to  come,  she  said  in  a  troubled  voice, 
*•  I  am  very  fearful,  superstitious.  Give  what  name  you  like 
to  my  presentiments,  but  I  am  afraid  that  my  happiness  will 
be  paid  for  by  some  horrible  catastrophe." 

"  Child  !  "  said  Eugene. 

"Ah!  have  we  changed  places,  and  am  I  the  child  to- 
night?" she  asked  laughingly. 

Eugene  went  back  to  the  Maison  Vauquer,  never  doubting 
but  that  he  should  leave  it  for  good  on  the  morrow ;  and  on 
the  way  he  fell  to  dreaming  the  bright  dreams  of  youth,  when 
the  cup  of  happiness  has  left  its  sweetness  on  the  lips. 

"Well?  "  cried  Goriot,  as  Rastignac  passed  by  his  door. 

"Yes,"  said  Eugene;  "I  will  tell  you  everything  to-mor- 
row." 

"Everything,  will  you  not?"  cried  the  old  man.  "  Go  to 
bed.     To-morrow  our  happy  life  will  begin." 

Next  day,  Goriot  and  Rastignac  were  ready  to  leave  the 
lodging-house,  and  only  awaited  the  good  pleasure  of  a  porter 
to  move  out  of  it ;  but  towards  noon  there  was  a  sound  of 
wheels  in  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve,  and  a  carriage 
stopped  before  the  door  of  the  Maison  Vauquer.     Mme.  de 


238  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Nucingen  alighted,  and  asked  if  her  father  was  still  in  the 
house,  and,  receiving  an  affirmative  reply  from  Sylvie,  ran 
lightly  upstairs. 

It  so  happened  that  Eugdne  was  at  home  all  unknown  to  his 
neighbor.  At  breakfast-time  he  had  asked  Goriot  to  superin- 
tend the  removal  of  his  goods,  saying  that  he  would  meet 
him  in  the  Rue  d'Artois  at  four  o'clock;  but  Rastignac's 
name  had  been  called  early  on  the  list  at  the  Ecole  de  droit, 
and  he  had  gone  back  at  once  to  the  Rue  Neuve-Sainte-Gene- 
vidve.  No  one  had  seen  him  come  in,  for  Goriot  had  gone 
to  find  a  porter,  and  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  likewise 
out.  Eugene  had  thought  to  pay  her  himself,  for  it  struck 
him  that  if  he  left  this,  Goriot  in  his  zeal  would  probably  pay 
for  him.  As  it  was,  Eugene  went  up  to  his  room  to  see  that 
nothing  had  been  forgotten,  and  blessed  his  foresight  when  he 
saw  the  blank  bill  bearing  Vautrin's  signature  lying  in  the 
drawer  where  he  had  carelessly  thrown  it  on  the  day  when  he 
had  repaid  the  amount.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  grate,  so 
he  was  about  to  tear  it  into  little  pieces,  when  he  heard  a  voice 
speaking  in  Goriot's  room,  and  the  speaker  was  Delphine ! 
He  made  no  more  noise,  and  stood  still  to  listen,  thinking 
that  she  should  have  no  secrets  from  him ;  but  after  the  first 
few  words,  the  conversation  between  the  father  and  daughter 
was  so  strange  and  interesting  that  it  absorbed  all  his  atten- 
tion. 

"Ah!  thank  heaven  that  you  thought  of  asking  him  to 
give  an  account  of  the  money  settled  on  me  before  I  was 
utterly  ruined,  father.     Is  it  safe  to  talk?  "  she  added. 

"  Yes,  there  is  no  one  in  the  house,"  said  her  father  faintly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Mme.  de  Nucin- 
gen. 

"God  forgive  you!  you  have  just  dealt  me  a  staggering 
blow,  child  !  "  said  the  old  man.  "  You  cannot  know  how 
much  I  love  you,  or  you  would  not  have  burst  in  upon  me 
like  this,  with  such  news,  especially  if  all  is  not  lost.     Has 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  239 

something  so  important  happened  that  you  must  come  here 
about  it  ?  In  a  few  minutes  we  should  have  been  in  the  Rue 
d'Artois." 

"  Eh  !  does  one  think  what  one  is  doing  after  a  catastrophe  ? 
It  has  turned  my  head.  Your  attorney  has  found  out  the 
state  of  things  now,  but  it  was  bound  to  come  out  sooner  or 
later.  We  shall  want  your  long  business  experience  ;  and  I 
came  to  you  like  a  drowning  man  who  catches  at  a  branch. 
When  M.  Derville  found  that  Nucingen  was  throwing  all  sorts 
of  difficulties  in  his  way,  he  threatened  him  with  proceedings, 
and  told  him  plainly  that  he  would  soon  obtain  an  order  from 
the  president  of  the  Tribunal.  So  Nucingen  came  to  my 
room  this  morning,  and  asked  if  I  meant  to  ruin  us  both.  I 
told  him  that  I  knew  nothing  whatever  about  it,  that  I  had  a 
fortune,  and  ought  to  be  put  into  possession  of  my  fortune, 
and  that  my  attorney  was  acting  for  me  in  the  matter  ',  I  said 
again  that  I  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  it,  and  could  not 
possibly  go  into  the  subject  with  him.  Wasn't  that  what  you 
told  me  to  tell  him?" 

"Yes,  quite  right,"  answered  Goriot. 

"  Well,  then,"  Delphine  continued,  "  he  told  me  all  about 
his  affairs.  He  had  just  invested  all  his  capital  and  mine  in 
business  speculations ;  they  have  only  just  been  started,  and 
very  large  sums  of  money  are  locked  up.  If  I  were  to  com- 
pel him  to  refund  my  dowry  now,  he  would  be  forced  to  file 
his  petition  ;  but  if  I  will  wait  a  year,  he  undertakes,  on  his 
honor,  to  double  or  treble  my  fortune,  by  investing  it  in 
building  land,  and  I  shall  be  mistress  at  last  of  the  whole  of 
my  property.  He  was  speaking  the  truth,  father  dear ;  he 
frightened  me  !  He  asked  my  pardon  for  his  conduct ;  he 
has  given  me  my  liberty  ;  I  am  free  to  act  as  I  please  on  con- 
ditions that  I  leave  him  to  carry  on  my  business  in  my  name. 
To  prove  his  sincerity,  he  promised  that  M.  Derville  might 
inspect  the  accounts  as  often  as  I  pleased,  so  that  I  might  be 
assured  that  everything  was  being  conducted  properly.     In 


240  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

short,  he  put  himself  into  my  power,  bound  hand  and  foot. 
He  wishes  the  present  arrangements  as  to  the  expenses  of 
housekeeping  to  continue  for  two  more  years,  and  entreated 
me  not  to  exceed  my  allowance.  He  showed  me  plainly  that 
it  was  all  that  he  could  do  to  keep  up  appearances ;  he  has 
broken  with  his  opera  dancer  ;  he  will  be  compelled  to  practice 
the  most  strict  economy  (in  secret)  if  he  is  to  bide  his  time 
with  unshaken  credit.  I  scolded,  I  did  all  I  could  to  drive 
him  to  desperation,  so  as  to  find  out  more.  He  showed  me 
his  ledgers — he  broke  down  and  cried  at  last.  I  never  saw  a 
man  in  such  a  state.  He  lost  his  head  completely,  talked  of 
killing  himself,  and  raved  till  I  felt  quite  sorry  for  him." 

"  Do  you  really  believe  that  silly  rubbish?  " cried  her 

father.  "  It  was  all  got  up  for  your  benefit !  I  have  had  to  do 
with  Germans  in  the  way  of  business ;  honest  and  straightfor- 
ward they  are  prety  sure  to  be,  but  when  with  their  simplicity 
and  frankness  they  are  sharpers  and  humbugs  as  well,  they  are 
the  worst  rogues  of  all.  Your  husband  is  taking  advantage  of 
you.  As  soon  as  pressure  is  brought  to  bear  on  him  he  shams 
dead ;  he  means  to  be  more  the  master  under  your  name  than 
in  his  own.  He  will  take  advantage  of  the  position  to  secure 
himself  against  the  risks  of  business.  He  is  as  sharp  as  he  is 
treacherous ;  he  is  a  bad  lot !  No,  no ;  I  am  not  going 
to  leave  my  girls  behind  me  without  a  penny  when  I  go 
to  Pere-Lachaise.  I  know  something  about  business  still. 
He  has  sunk  his  money  in  speculation,  he  says ;  very 
well,  then  there  is  something  to  show  for  it  —  bills, 
receipts,  papers  of  some  sort.  Let  him  produce  them, 
and  come  to  an  arrangement  with  you.  We  will  choose 
the  most  promising  of  his  speculations,  take  them  over  at  our 
own  risk,  and  have  the  securities  transferred  into  your  name ; 
they  shall  represent  the  separate  estate  of  Delphine  Goriot, 
wife  of  the  Baron  de  Nucingen.  Does  that  fellow  really  take 
us  for  idiots?  Does  he  imagine  that  I  could  stand  the  idea 
of  your  being  without  fortune,  without  bread,  for  forty-eight 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  241 

hours?  I  would  not  stand  it  a  day — no,  not  a  night,  not  a 
couple  of  hours  !  If  there  had  been  any  foundation  for  the 
idea,  I  should  never  get  over  it.  What  !  I  have  worked  hard 
for  forty  years,  carried  sacks  on  my  back,  and  sweated  and 
pinched  and  saved  all  my  life  for  you,  my  darlings,  for  you 
who  made  the  toil  and  every  burden  borne  for  you  seem  light; 
and  now,  my  fortune,  my  whole  life,  is  to  vanish  in  smoke  ! 
I  should  die  raving  mad  if  I  believed  a  word  of  it.  By  all 
that's  holiest  in  heaven  and  earth,  we  will  have  this  cleared 
up  at  once ;  go  through  the  books,  have  the  whole  business 
looked  thoroughly  into  !  I  will  not  sleep,  nor  rest,  nor  eat 
until  I  have  satisfied  myself  that  all  your  fortune  is  in  exist- 
ence. Your  money  is  settled  upon  you,  God  be  thanked  ! 
and,  luckily,  your  attorney,  Maitre  Derville,  is  an  honest 
man.  Good  Lord  !  you  shall  have  your  snug  little  million, 
your  fifty  thousand  francs  a  year,  as  long  as  you  live,  or  I  will 
raise  a  racket  in  Paris,  I  will  so  !  If  the  Tribunals  put  upon 
us,  I  will  appeal  to  the  Chambers.  If  I  knew  that  you  were 
well  and  comfortably  off  as  far  as  money  is  concerned,  that 
thought  would  keep  me  easy  in  spite  of  bad  health  and 
troubles.  Money  ?  why,  it  is  life  !  Money  does  everything. 
That  great  dolt  of  an  Alsatian  shall  sing  to  another  tune ! 
Look  here,  Delphlne,  don't  give  way,  don't  make  a  conces- 
sion of  half  a  quarter  of  a  farthing  to  that  fathead,  who  has 
ground  you  down  and  made  you  miserable.  If  he  can't  do 
without  you,  we  will  give  him  a  good  cudgeling,  and  keep 
him  in  order.  Great  heavens  !  my  brain  is  on  fire  ;  it  is  as  if 
there  were  something'^redhot  inside  my  head.  My  Delphine 
lying  on  straw !  You  !  my  Fifine  !  Good  gracious  !  Where 
are  my  gloves?  Come,  let  us  go  at  once;  I  mean  to  see 
everything  with  my  own  eyes — books,  cash,  and  correspond- 
ence, the  whole  business.  I  shall  have  no  peace  until  I  know 
for  certain  that  your  fortune  is  secure  !  " 

"  Oh  !  father  dear,  be  careful  how  you  set  about  it  !     If 
there  is  the  least  hint  of  vengeance  in  the  business,  if  you 
16 


242  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

show  yourself  openly  hostile,  it  will  be  all  over  with  me. 
He  knows  whom  he  has  to  deal  with  ;  he  thinks  it  quite 
natural  that  if  you  put  the  idea  into  my  head,  I  should  be 
uneasy  about  my  money  ;  but  I  swear  to  you  that  he  has  it  in 
his  own  hands,  and  that  he  had  meant  to  keep  it.  He  is  just 
the  man  to  abscond  with  all  the  money  and  leave  us  in  the 
lurch,  the  scoundrel !  He  knows  quite  well  that  I  will  not 
dishonor  the  name  I  bear  by  bringing  him  into  a  court  of 
law.  His  position  is  strong  and  weak  at  the  same  time.  If 
we  drive  him  to  despair,  I  am  lost." 

"Why,  then,  the  man  is  a  rogue?" 

"Well,  yes,  father,"  she  said,  flinging  herself  into  a  chair. 
"I  wanted  to  keep  it  from  you  to  spare  your  feelings,"  and 
she  burst  into  tears;  "  I  did  not  want  you  to  know  that  you 
had  married  me  to  such  a  man  as  he  is.  He  is  just  the  same 
in  private  life — body  and  soul  and  conscience — the  same 
through  and  through — hideous  !  I  hate  him ;  I  despise  him  ! 
Yes,  after  all  that  that  despicable  Nucingen  has  told  me,  I 
cannot  respect  him  any  longer.  A  man  capable  of  mixing 
himself  up  in  such  affairs,  and  of  talking  about  them  to  me 
as  he  did,  without  the  slightest  scruple — it  is  because  I  have 
read  him  through  and  through  that  I  am  afraid  of  him.  He, 
my  husband,  frankly  proposed  to  give  me  my  liberty,  and  do 
you  know  what  that  means  ?  It  means  that  if  things  turn 
out  badly  for  him,  I  am  to  play  into  his  hands,  and  be  his 
stalking-horse." 

"  But  there  is  law  to  be  had  !  There  is  a  Place  de 
Gr^ve  for  sons-in-law  of  that  sort,"  cried  her  father;  "why, 
I  would  guillotine  him  myself  if  there  was  no  headsman  to 
do  it." 

"  No,  father,  the  law  cannot  touch  him.  Listen,  this  is 
what  he  says,  stripped  of  all  his  circumlocutions — '  Take  your 
choice,  you  and  no  one  else  can  be  my  accomplice ;  either 
everything  is  lost,  you  are  ruined  and  have  not  a  farthing,  or 
you  will  let  me  carry  this  business  through  myself.*     Is  that 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  243 

plain  speaking  ?  He  must  have  my  assistance.  He  is  assured 
that  his  wife  will  deal  fairly  by  him ;  he  knows  that  I  shall 
leave  his  money  to  him  and  be  content  with  my  own.  It  is 
an  unholy  and  dishonest  compact,  and  he  holds  out  threats  of 
ruin  to  compel  me  to  consent  to  it.  He  is  buying  my  con- 
science, and  the  price  is  liberty  to  be  Eugene's  wife  in  all  but 
name.  *  I  connive  at  your  errors,  and  you  allow  me  to  com- 
mit crimes  and  ruin  poor  families  ! '  Is  that  sufficiently  ex- 
plicit ?  Do  you  know  what  he  means  by  speculations  ?  He 
buys  up  land  in  his  own  name,  then  he  finds  men  of  straw  to 
run  up  houses  upon  it.  These  men  make  a  bargain  with  a 
contractor  to  build  the  houses,  paying  them  by  bills  at  long 
dates ;  then  in  consideration  of  a  small  sum  they  leave  my 
husband  in  possession  of  the  houses,  and  finally  slip  through 
the  fingers  of  the  deluded  contractors  by  going  into  bank- 
ruptcy. The  name  of  the  firm  of  Nucingen  has  been  used  to 
dazzle  the  poor  contractors.  I  saw  that.  I  noticed,  too, 
that  Nucingen  had  sent  bills  for  large  amounts  to  Amsterdam, 
London,  Naples,  and  Vienna,  in  order  to  prove  if  necessary 
that  large  sums  had  been  paid  away  by  the  firm.  How  could 
we  get  possession  of  those  bills?  " 

Eugene  heard  a  dull  thud  on  the  floor ;  Father  Goriot  must 
have  fallen  on  his  knees. 

"Great  heavens!  what  have  I  done  to  you?  Bound  my 
daughter  to  this  scoundrel  who  does  as  he  likes  with  her ! 
Oh !  my  child,  my  child  !  forgive  me  !  "  eagerly  cried  the 
old  man. 

"Yes,  if  I  am  in  the  depths  of  despair,  perhaps  you  are  to 
blame,"  said  Delphine.  "  We  have  so  little  sense  when  we 
marry !  What  do  we  know  of  the  world,  of  business,  or 
men,  or  life  ?  Our  fathers  should  think  for  us  !  Father  dear, 
I  am  not  blaming  you  in  the  least,  forgive  me  for  what  I  said. 
This  is  all  my  own  fault.  Nay,  do  not  cry,  papa,"  she  said, 
kissing  him. 

"  Do  not  you  cry  either,  my  little  Delphine.     Look  up  and 


244  FATHER   GORIOT. 

let  me  kiss  away  the  tears.  There  !  I  shall  find  my  wits  and 
unravel  this  skein  of  your  husband's  winding." 

"  No,  let  me  do  that ;  I  shall  be  able  to  manage  him.  He 
is  fond  of  me,  well  and  good ;  I  shall  use  my  influence  to 
make  him  invest  my  money  as  soon  as  possible  in  landed 
property  in  my  own  name.  Very  likely  I  could  get  him  to 
buy  back  Nucingen  in  Alsace  in  my  name ;  that  has  always 
been  a  pet  idea  of  his.  Still,  come  to-morrow  and  go  through 
the  books,  and  look  into  the  business.  M.  Derville  knows 
little  of  mercantile  matters.  No,  not  to-morrow  though.  I 
do  not  want  to  be  upset.  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  ball  will  be 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  I  must  keep  quiet,  so  as  to  look 

my  best  and  freshest,  and  do  honor  to  ray  dear  Eugene  ! 

Come,  let  us  see  his  room." 

But  as  she  spoke  a  carriage  stopped  in  the  Rue  Neuve- 
J5ainte-Genevieve,  and  the  sound  of  Mme.  de  Restaud's  voice 
came  from  the  staircase.  '  *  Is  my  father  in  ?  "  she  asked  of 
Sylvie. 

This  accident  was  luckily  timed  for  Eugene,  whose  one 
idea  had  been  to  throw  himself  down  on  the  bed  and 
pretend  to  be  asleep. 

**  Oh,  father,  have  you  heard  about  Anastasie?"  said 
Delphine,  when  she  heard  her  sister  speak.  "It  looks  as 
though  some  strange  things  had  happened  in  that  family." 

"  What  sort  of  things  ?  "  asked  Goriot.  "  This  is  like  to 
be  the  death  of  me.  My  poor  head  will  not  stand  a  double 
misfortune." 

"  Good-morning,  father,"  said  the  Countess  from  the  thresh- 
old.    "  Oh  !  Delphine,  are  you  here  ?  " 

Mme.  de  Restaud  seemed  taken  aback  by  her  sister's 
presence. 

"Good-morning,  Nasie,"  said  the  Baroness.  "What  is 
there  so  extraordinary  in  my  being  here  ?  /  see  our  father 
every  day." 

"Since  when?" 


FATHER    GORIOT.  245 

"  If  you  came  yourself  you  would  know." 

"  Don't  tease,  Delphine,"  said  the  Countess  fretfully.  "I 
am  very  miserable,  I  am  lost.  Oh  !  my  poor  father,  it  is 
hopeless  this  time  !  " 

*'  What  is  it,  Nasie?"  cried  Goriot.  "  Tell  us  all  about  it, 
child  !  How  white  she  is  !  Quick,  do  something,  Delphine  ; 
be  kind  to  her,  and  I  will  love  you  even  better,  if  that  were 
possible." 

"Poor  Nasie!"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  drawing  her 
sister  to  a  chair.  "  We  are  the  only  two  people  in  the  world 
whose  love  is  always  sufficient  to  forgive  you  everything. 
Family  affection  is  the  surest,  you  see." 

The  Countess  inhaled  the  salts  and  revived. 

"This  will  kill  me!"  said  their  father.  "There,"  he 
went  on,  stirring  the  smoldering  fire,  "  come  nearer,  both  of 
you.  It  is  cold.  What  is  it,  Nasie?  Be  quick  and  tell  me, 
this  is  enough  to " 

"Well,  then,  my  husband  knows  everything,"  said  the 
Countess.  "  Just  imagine  it ;  do  you  remember,  father,  that 
bill  of  Maxime's  some  time  ago?  Well,  that  was  not  the 
first.  I  had  paid  ever  so  many  before  that.  About  the  be- 
ginning of  January  M.  de  Trailles  seemed  very  much  troubled. 
He  said  nothing  to  me ;  but  it  is  so  easy  to  read  the  hearts  of 
those  you  love,  a  mere  trifle  Js  enough ;  and  then  you  feel 
things  instinctively.  Indeed,  he  was  more  tender  and  affec- 
tionate than  ever,  and  I  was  happier  than  I  had  ever  been 
before.  Poor  Maxime  !  in  himself  he  was  really  saying  good- 
by  to  me,  so  he  has  told  me  since;  he  meant  to  blow  his 
brains  out !  At  last  I  worried  him  so,  and  begged  and  im- 
plored so  hard ;  for  two  hours  I  knelt  at  his  knees  and  prayed 
and  entreated,  and  at  last  he  told  me — that  he  owed  a  hundred 
thousand  francs.  Oh  !  papa  !  a  hundred  thousand  francs ! 
I  was  beside  myself !  You  had  not  the  money,  I  knew ;  I  had 
eaten  up  all  that  you  had " 

"No,"  said  Goriot ;  "I  could  not  have  gotten  it  for  you 


246  FATHER   GORIOT. 

unless  I  had  stolen  it.     But  I  would  have  done  that  for  you, 
Nasie  !     I  will  do  it  yet," 

The  words  came  from  him  like  a  sob,  a  hoarse  sound  like 
the  death-rattle  of  a  dying  man  ;  it  seemed  indeed  like  the 
agony  of  death  when  the  father's  love  was  powerless.  There 
was  a  pause,  and  neither  of  the  sisters  spoke.  It  must  have 
been  selfishness  indeed  that  could  hear  unmoved  that  cry  of 
anguish  that,  like  a  pebble  thrown  over  a  precipice,  revealed 
the  depths  of  his  despair. 

"  I  found  the  money,  father,  by  selling  what  was  not  mine 
to  sell,"  and  the  Countess  burst  into  tears. 

Delphine  was  touched ;  she  laid  her  head  on  her  sister's 
shoulder,  and  cried  too. 

"  Then  it  is  all  true,"  she  said. 

Anastasie  bowed  her  head.  Mme.  de  Nucingen  flung  her 
arms  about  her,  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  held  her  sister  to  her 
heart. 

"  I  shall  always  love  you  and  never  judge  you,  Nasie,"  she 
said. 

"My  angels!"  murmured  Goriot  faintly.  "Oh,  why 
should  it  be  trouble  that  draws  you  together?" 

This  warm  and  palpitating  affection  seemed  to  give  the 
Countess  courage. 

"To  save  Maxime's  life,"  she  said,  "to  save  all  my  own 
happiness,  I  went  to  the  money-lender  you  know  of,  a  man 
of  iron  forged  in  hell-fire ;  nothing  can  melt  him ;  I  took  all 
the  family  diamonds  that  M.  de  Restaud  is  so  proud  of — his 
and  mine  too — and  sold  them  to  that  M.  Gobseck.  Sold 
them  /  Do  you  understand  ?  I  saved  Maxime,  but  I  am  lost. 
Restaud  found  it  all  out." 

"  How?     Who  told  him?     I  will  kill  him,"  cried  Goriot. 

"  Yesterday  he  sent  to  tell  me  to  come  to  his  room.     I 

went *  Anastasie,'  he  said  in  a  voice — oh  !  such  a  voice ; 

that  was  enough,  it  told  me  everything — *  where  are  your  dia- 
monds? '  *  In  my  room '  '  No,'  he  said,  looking  straight  at 


FATHER    GORIOT.  247 

me,  *  there  they  are  on  that  chest  of  drawers '  and  he  lifted 

his  handkerchief  and  showed  me  the  casket.     '  Do  you  know 

where  they  come  from  ?  '  he  said.     I  fell  at  his  feet I 

cried ;  I  besought  him  to  tell  me  the  death  he  wished  to  see 
me  die." 

"You  said  that!"  cried  Goriot.  "By  God  in  heaven, 
whoever  lays  a  hand  on  either  of  you  so  long  as  I  am  alive 
may  reckon  on  being  roasted  by  slow  fires !  Yes,  I  will  cut 
him  in  pieces  like " 

Goriot  stopped  j  the  words  died  away  in  his  throat. 

"  And  then,  dear,  he  asked  something  worse  than  death  of 
me.  Oh !  heaven  preserve  all  other  women  from  hearing 
such  words  as  I  heard  then  !  " 

"  I  will  murder  that  man,"  said  Goriot  quietly.  "But  he 
has  only  one  life,  and  he  deserves  to  die  twice.  And  then, 
what  next?"  he  added,  looking  at  Anastasie. 

"Then,"  the  Countess  resumed,  "there  was  a  pause,  and 
he  looked  at  me.  'Anastasie,'  he  said,  'I  will  bury  this  in 
silence ;  there  shall  be  no  separation  ;  there  are  the  children. 
I  will  not  kill  M.  de  Trailles.  I  might  miss  him  if  we  fought, 
and  as  for  other  ways  of  getting  rid  of  him,  I  should  come 
into  collision  with  the  law.  If  I  killed  him  in  your  arms,  it 
would  bring  dishonor  on  those  children.  But  if  you  do  not 
want  to  see  your  children  perish,  nor  their  father  nor  me,  you 
must  first  of  all  submit  to  two  conditions.  Answer  me.  Have 
I  a  child  of  my  own  ?  '  I  answered,  '  Yes. '  '  Which  ?  '  *  Ernest, 
our  eldest  boy.'  'Very  well,'  he  said,  'and  now  swear  to 
obey  me  in  this  particular  from  this  time  forward.'  I  swore. 
'  You  will  make  over  your  property  to  me  when  I  require  you 
to  do  so.'  " 

"  Do  nothing  of  the  kind  !  "  cried  Goriot.  "  Aha !  M.  de 
Restaud,  you  could  not  make  your  wife  happy  ;  she  has  looked 
for  happiness  and  found  it  elsewhere,  and  you  make  her  suffer 
for  your  own  inaptitude  ?  He  will  have  to  reckon  with  me. 
Make  yourself  easy,  Nasie.     Aha  1  he  cares  about  his  heir ! 


248  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Good,  very  good.  I  will  get  hold  of  the  boy  ',  isn't  he  my 
grandson  ?  What  the  blazes  !  I  can  surely  go  to  see  the  brat ! 
I  will  stow  him  away  somewhere;  I  will  take  care  of  him, 
you  may  be  quite  easy.  I  will  bring  Restaud  to  terms,  the 
monster  !  I  shall  say  to  him,  '  A  word  or  two  with  you  !  If 
you  want  your  son  back  again,  give  my  daughter  her  property, 
and  leave  her  to  do  as  she  pleases.'  " 

''Father!" 

"  Yes.  I  am  your  father,  Nasie,  a  father  indeed !  That 
rogue  of  a  great  lord  had  better  not  ill-treat  my  daughter. 
Tonnerre  !  What  is  it  in  my  veins  ?  There  is  the  blood  of  a 
tiger  in  me ;  I  could  tear  those  two  men  to  pieces !  Oh  ! 
children,  children  !  so  this  is  what  your  lives  are !     Why,  it 

is  death  ! What  will  become  of  you  when  I  shall  be  here 

no  longer  ?  Fathers  ought  to  live  as  long  as  their  children. 
Ah !  Lord  God  in  heaven !  how  ill  Thy  world  is  ordered  ! 
Thou  hast  a  Son,  if  what  they  tell  us  is  true,  and  yet  Thou 
leavest  us  to  suffer  so  through  our  children.  My  darlings, 
my  darlings !  to  think  that  trouble  only  should  bring  you  to 
me,  that  I  should  only  see  you  with  tears  on  your  faces !  Ah  ! 
yes,  yes,  you  love  me,  I  see  that  you  love  me.  Come  to  me 
and  pour  out  your  griefs  to  me ;  my  heart  is  large  enough  to 
hold  them  all.  Oh  !  you  might  rend  my  heart  in  pieces,  and 
every  fragment  would  make  a  father's  heart.     If  only  I  could 

bear  all  your  sorrows  for  you  ! Ah  !  you  were  so  happy 

when  you  were  little  and  still  with  me " 

"We  have  never  been  happy  since,"  said  Delphine. 
*'  Where  are  the  old  days  when  we  slid  down  the  sacks  in  the 
great  granary  ?  ' ' 

"That  is  not  all,  father,"  said  Anastasie  in  Goriot's  ear. 
The  old  man  gave  a  startled  shudder.  "  The  diamonds  only 
sold  for  a  hundred  thousand  francs.  Maxime  is  hard  pressed. 
There  are  twelve  thousand  francs  still  to  pay.  He  has  given 
me  his  word  that  he  will  be  steady  and  give  up  play  in  future. 
His  love  is  all  that  I  have  left  in  the  world.     I  have  paid  such 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  249 

a  fearful  price  for  it  that  I  shall  die  if  I  lose  him  now.  I  have 
sacrificed  my  fortune,  my  honor,  my  peace  of  mind,  and  my 
children  for  him.  Oh !  do  something,  so  that  at  the  least 
Maxime  may  be  at  large  and  live  undisgraced  in  the  world, 
where  he  will  assuredly  make  a  career  for  himself.  Some- 
thing more  than  my  happiness  is  at  stake ;  the  children  have 
nothing,  and  if  he  is  sent  to  Sainte-P6lagie  all  his  prospects 
will  be  ruined." 

"I  haven't  the  money,  Nasie.  I  have  nothing — nothing 
left.  This  is  the  end  of  everything.  Yes,  the  world  is  crum- 
bling into  ruin,  I  am  sure.  Fly  !  Save  yourselves  !  Ah  !  I 
have  still  my  silver  buckles  left  and  half-a-dozen  silver  spoons 
and  forks,  the  first  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  But  I  have  nothing 
else  except  my  life  annuity,  twelve  hundred  francs " 

"  Then  what  has  become  of  your  money  in  the  funds?  " 

"  I  sold  out,  and  only  kept  a  trifle  for  my  wants.  I  wanted 
twelve  thousand  francs  to  furnish  some  rooms  for  Delphine." 

"In  your  own  house?"  asked  Mme.  de  Restaud,  looking 
at  her  sister. 

"What  does  it  matter  where  they  were?"  asked  Goriot. 
"The  money  is  spent  now." 

"I  see  how  it  is,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Rooms  for  M.  de 
Rastignac.     Poor  Delphine,  take  warning  by  me  !  " 

"  M.  de  Rastignac  is  incapable  of  ruining  the  woman  he 
loves,  dear." 

"  Thanks  !  Delphine.  I  thought  you^  would  have  been 
kinder  to  me  in  my  troubles,  but  you  never  did  love  me." 

"Yes,  yes,  she  loves  you,  Nasie!"  cried  Goriot;  "she 
was  saying  so  only  just  now.  We  were  talking  about  you, 
and  she  insisted  that  you  were  beautiful,  and  that  she  herself 
was  only  pretty!  " 

"  Pretty  !  "  said  the  Countess.  "  She  is  as  hard  as  a  mar- 
ble statue." 

"And  if  I  am,  "  cried  Delphine,  flushing  up,  "how  have 
you  treated  me  ?    You  would  not  recognize  me  \  you  closed 


250  FATHER   GO  RIOT.     ' 

the  doors  of  every  house  against  me  ;  you  have  never  let  an 
opportunity  of  mortifying  me  slip  by.  And  when  did  I  come, 
as  you  were  always  doing,  to  drain  our  poor  father,  a  thou- 
sand francs  at  a  time,  till  he  is  left  as  you  see  him  now? 
That  is  all  your  doing,  sister  !  I  myself  have  seen  my  father 
as  often  as  I  could.  I  have  not  turned  him  out  of  the  house, 
and  then  come  and  fawned  upon  him  when  I  wanted  money. 
I  did  not  so  much  as  know  that  he  had  spent  those  twelve 
thousand  francs  on  me.  I  am  economical,  as  you  know ;  and 
when  papa  has  made  me  presents,  it  has  never  been  because  I 
came  and  begged  for  them." 

"You  were  better  off  than  I.  M.  de  Marsay  was  rich,  as 
you  have  reason  to  know.  You  always  were  as  slippery  as 
gold.     Good-by;  I  have  neither  sister  nor " 

"  Oh  !  hush,  hush  !  Nasie  !  "  cried  her  father. 

**  Nobody  else  would  repeat  what  everybody  has  ceased  to 
believe.     You  are  an  unnatural  sister  !  "  cried  Delphine. 

"  Oh,  children,  children  !  hush  !  hush  !  or  I  will  kill  my- 
self before  your  eyes." 

**  There,  Nasie,  I  forgive  you,"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen  ; 
"  you  are  very  unhappy.  But  I  am  kinder  than  you  are. 
How  could  you  say  ^haf  just  when  I  was  ready  to  do  anything 
in  the  world  to  help  you,  even  to  be  reconciled  with  my  hus- 
band, which  for  my  own  sake  I Oh  !  it  is  just  like  you ; 

you  have  behaved  cruelly  to  me  all  through  these  nine  years." 

"  Children,  children,  kiss  each  other  !  "  cried  the  father. 
"You  are  angels,  both  of  you." 

**  No.  Let  me  alone,"  cried  the  Countess,  shaking  off  the 
hand  that  her  father  had  laid  on  her  arm.  "  She  is  more 
merciless  than  my  husband.  Any  one  might  think  she  was  a 
model  of  all  the  virtues  herself!  " 

"  I  would  rather  have  people  think  that  I  owed  money  to 
M.  de  Marsay  than  own  that  M,  de  Trailles  had  cost  me  more 
than  two  hundred  thousand  francs/'  retorted  Mme.  de 
Nucingen. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  251 

^'Ddphine!"  cried  the  Countess,  stepping  towards  her 
sister. 

"  I  shall  tell  you  the  truth  about  yourself  if  you  begin  to 
slander  me,"  said  the  Baroness  coldly. 

"  Delphine  !  you  are  a " 

Father  Goriot  sprang  between  them,  grasped  the  Countess* 
hand,  and  laid  his  own  over  her  mouth. 

"  Good  heavens,  father  !  What  have  you  been  handling 
this  morning?  "  said  Anastasie. 

"Ah!  well,  yes,  I  ought  not  to  have  touched  you,"  said 
the  poor  father,  wiping  his  hands  on  his  trousers,  **  but  I 
have  been  packing  up  my  things ;  I  did  not  know  that  you 
were  coming  to  see  me." 

He  was  glad  that  he  had  drawn  down  her  wrath  upon 
himself, 

"  Ah  !  "  he  sighed,  as  he  sat  down,  *'  you  children  have 
broken  my  heart  between  you.  This  is  killing  me.  My  head 
feels  as  if  it  were  on  fire.  Be  good  to  each  other  and  love 
each  other  !  This  will  be  the  death  of  me  !  Delphine  ! 
Nasie  !  come,  be  sensible  ;  you  are  both  in  the  wrong.  Come, 
Dedel,"  he  added,  looking  through  his  tears  at  the  Baroness, 
"she must  have  twelve  thousand  francs,  you  see;  let  us  see  if 
we  can  find  them  for  her.  Oh,  my  girls,  do  not  look  at  each 
other  like  that !  "  and  he  sank  on  his  knees  beside  Delphine. 

"  Ask  her  to  forgive  you — just  to  please  pie,"  he  said  in  her 
ear.  "  She  is  more  miserable  than  you  are.  Come  now, 
Dedel." 

"Poor  Nasie  !"  said  Delphine,  alarmed  at  the  wild  ex- 
travagant grief  in  her  father's  face,  "  I  was  in  the  wrong, 
kiss  me " 

"  Ah  !  that  is  like  balm  to  my  heart,"  cried  Father  Goriot. 
"  But  how  are  we  to  find  twelve  thousand  francs?  I  might 
offer  myself  as  a  substitute  in  the  army " 

"  Oh  !  father  dear  !  "  they  both  cried,  flinging  their  arms 
about  him.     "  No,  no  I" 


252  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"  God  reward  you  for  the  thought.  We  are  not  worth  it, 
are  we,  Nasie  ?  ' '  asked  Delphine. 

"  And  besides,  father  dear,  it  would  only  be  a  drop  in  the 
bucket,"  observed  the  Countess. 

"But  is  flesh  and  blood  worth  nothing?"  cried  the  old 
man  in  his  despair.  "I  would  give  body  and  soul  to  save 
you,  Nasie.  I  would  do  a  murder  for  the  man  who  would 
rescue  you.     I  would  do,  as  Vautrin  did,  go  to  the  hulks, 

go "  he  stopped  as  if  struck  by  a  thunderbolt,  and  put 

both  hands  to  his  head.  **  Nothing  left  !  "  he  cried,  tearing 
his  hair.  "  If  I  only  knew  of  a  way  to  steal  money,  but  it  is  so 
hard  to  do  it,  and  then  you  can't  set  to  work  by  yourself,  and 
it  takes  time  to  rob  a  bank.  Yes,  it  is  time  I  was  dead  ;  there 
is  nothing  left  me  to  do  but  to  die.  I  am  no  good  in  the 
world  ;  I  am  no  longer  a  father  !  No.  She  has  come  to  me 
in  her  extremity,  and,  wretch  that  I  am,  I  have  nothing  to 
give  her.  Ah  !  you  put  your  money  into  a  life  annuity,  old 
scoundrel ;  and  had  you  not  daughters  ?  You  did  not  love 
them.  Die,  die  in  a  ditch,  like  the  dog  that  you  are  !  Yes, 
I  am  worse  than  a  dog ;  a  beast  would  not  have  done  as  I 

have   done !     Oh !    my   head it   throbs   as  if  it   would 

burst." 

*'Papa!"  cried  both  the  young  women  at  once,  "do, 
pray,  be  reasonable  !  "  and  they  clung  to  him  to  prevent  him 
from  dashing  his  head  against  the  wall.  There  was  a  sound 
of  sobbing. 

Eugene,  greatly  alarmed,  took  the  bill  that  bore  Vautrin's 
signature,  saw  that  the  stamp  would  suffice  for  a  larger  sum, 
altered  the  figures,  made  it  into  a  regular  bill  for  twelve 
thousand  francs,  payable  to  Goriot's  order,  and  went  to  his 
neighbor's  room,  determined  to  help  him  out  of  his  present 
trouble  by  a  great  sacrifice  on  his  own  part. 

"  Here  is  the  money,  madame,"  he  said,  handing  the  piece 
of  paper  to  her.  "  I  was  asleep ;  your  conversation  awoke 
me,  and  by  this  means  I  learned  all  that  I  owed  to  M.  Goriot. 


FATHER  GO  RIOT.  253 

This  bill  can  be  discounted,  and  I  shall  meet  it  punctually  at 
the  due  date." 

The  Countess  stood  motionless  and  speechless,  but  she  held 
the  bill  in  her  fingers. 

"  Delphine,"  she  said,  with  a  white  face,  and  her  whole 
frame  quivering  with  indignation,  anger,  and  rage,  "  I  forgave 
you  everything ;  God  is  my  witness  that  I  forgave  you,  but  I 
cannot  forgive  this  !  So  this  gentleman  was  there  all  the 
time,  and  you  knew  it !  Your  petty  spite  has  led  you  to  wreak 
your  vengeance  on  me  by  betraying  my  secrets,  my  life,  my 
children's  lives,  my  shame,  my  honor  !  There,  you  are  noth- 
ing to  me  any  longer.  I  hate  you.  I  will  do  all  that  I  can 
to  injure  you.     I  will " 

Anger  paralyzed  her ;  the  words  died  in  her  dry  parched 
throat. 

"  Why,  he  is  my  son,  my  child ;  he  is  your  brother,  your 
preserver !  "  cried  Goriot.  *'  Kiss  his  hand,  Nasie  !  Stay,  I 
will  embrace  him  myself,"  he  said,  straining  Eugene  to  his 
breast  in  a  frenzied  clasp.  "  Oh  my  boy  !  I  will  be  more 
than  a  father  to  you  ;  I  would  be  everything  in  the  world  to 
you ;  if  I  had  God's  power,  I  would  fling  worlds  at  your  feet. 
Why  don't  you  kiss  him,  Nasie?  He  is  not  a  man,  but  an 
angel,  an  angel  out  of  heaven." 

"  Never  mind  her,  father;  she  is  mad  jUst  now." 

"Mad!  am  I?  And  what  are  you?"  cried  Mme.  de 
Restaud. 

"  Children,  children,  I  shall  die  if  you  go  on  like  this,"  cried 
the  old  man,  and  he  staggered  and  fell  on  the  bed  as  if  a  bullet 
had  struck  him.  "  They  are  killing  me  between  them,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

The  Countess  fixed  her  eyes  on  Eugene,  who  stood  stock- 
still  ;  all  his  faculties  were  numbed  by  this  violent  scene. 

"Sir? "  she  said,  doubt  and  inquiry  in  her  face,  tone, 

and  bearing ;  she  took  no  notice  now  of  her  father  nor  of 
Delphine,  who  was  hastily  unfastening  his  waistcoat. 


2M  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"Madame,"  said  Eugene,  answering  the  question  before  it 
was  asked,  **  I  will  meet  the  bill,  and  keep  silence  about  it." 

"You  have  killed  our  father,  Nasie  !  "  said  Delphine, 
pointing  to  Goriot,  who  lay  unconscious  on  the  bed.  The 
Countess  fled. 

"  I  freely  forgive  her,"  said  the  old  man,  opening  his  eyes ; 
"her  position  is  horrible  ;  it  would  turn  an  older  head  than 
hers.  Comfort  Nasie,  and  be  nice  to  her,  Delphine ;  promise 
it  to  your  poor  father  before  he  dies,"  he  said,  holding 
Delphine's  hand  in  a  convulsive  clasp. 

"  Oh  !  what  ails  you,  father  ?  "  she  cried  in  real  alarm. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  said  Goriot ;  "  it  will  go  off.  There 
is  something  heavy  pressing  on  my  forehead,  a  little  headache 
Ah  !  poor  Nasie,  what  a  life  lies  before  her !  " 

Just  as  he  spoke,  the  Countess  came  back  again  and  flung 
herself  on  her  knees  before  him.     "  Forgive  me  !  "  she  cried. 

"Come,"  said  her  father,  "you  are  hurting  me  still 
more." 

"Monsieur,"  the  Countess  said,  turning  to  Rastignac, 
"  misery  made  me  unjust  to  you.  You  will  be  a  brother  to 
me,  will  you  not?"  and  she  held  out  her  hand.  Her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears  as  she  spoke. 

"  Nasie,"  cried  Delphine,  flinging  her  arms  round  her 
sister,  "  my  little  Nasie,  let  us  forget  and  forgive." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Nasie  ;  "  I  shall  never  forget !  " 

"Dear  angels,"  cried  Goriot,  "it  is  as  if  a  dark  curtain 
over  my  eyes  had  be6n  raised ;  your  voices  have  called  me 
back  to  life.  Kiss  each  other  once  more.  Well,  now,  Nasie, 
that  bill  will  save  you,  won't  it  ?  " 

"I  hope  so.  I  say,  papa,  will  you  write  your  name  on 
it?" 

"  There  !  how  stupid  of  me  to  forget  that !  But  I  am  not 
feeling  at  all  well,  Nasie,  so  you  must  not  remember  it  against 
me.  Send  and  let  me  know  as  soon  as  you  are  out  of  your 
strait.     No,  I  will  go  to  you.     No,  after  all,  I  will  not  go ;  I 


FATHER   G  OR  TOT.  255 

might  meet  your  husband,  and  I  should  kill  him  on  the  spot. 
And  as  for  signing  away  your  property,  I  shall  have  a  word  to 
say  about  that.  Quick,  my  child,  and  keep  Maxime  in  order 
in  future." 

Eugene  was  too  bewildered  to  speak. 

*'  Poor  Anastasie,  she  always  had  a  violent  temper,"  said 
Mme.  de  Nucingen,  "but  she  has  a  good  heart." 

"  She  came  back  for  the  endorsement,"  said  Eugdne  in 
Delphine's  ear. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  " 

"  I  only  wish  I  could  think  otherwise.  Do  not  trust  her," 
he  answered,  raising  his  eyes  as  if  he  confided  to  heaven  the 
thoughts  that  he  did  not  venture  to  express. 

"Yes,  she  is  always  acting  a  part  to  some  extent." 

"How  do  you  feel  now,  dear  Father  Goriot?"  asked 
Rastignac. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  to  sleep,"  he  replied. 

Eugene  helped  him  to  bed,  and  Delphine  sat  by  the 
bedside,  holding  his  hand  until  he  fell  asleep.  Then  she 
went. 

"This  evening  at  the  Italiens,"  she  said  to  Eugene,  "and 
you  can  let  me  know  how  he  is.  To-morrow  you  will  leave 
this  place,  monsieur.  Let  us  go  into  your  room.  Oh  !  how 
frightful!"  she  cried  on  the  threshold.  '^'^  Why,  you  are 
even  worse  lodged  than  our  father.  Eugene,  you  have  behaved 
well.  I  would  love  you  more  if  that  were  possible ;  but,  dear 
boy,  if  you  are  to  succeed  in  life,  you  must  not  begin  by 
flinging  twelve  thousand  francs  out  of  the  windows  like  that. 
The  Comte  de  Trailles  is  a  confirmed  gambler.  My  sister 
shuts  her  eyes  to  it.  He  would  have  made  the  twelve  thou- 
sand francs  in  the  same  way  that  he  wins  and  loses  heaps  of 
gold." 

A  groan  from  the  next  room  brought  them  back  to  Goriot's 
bedside  ;  to  all  appearance  he  was  asleep,  but  the  two  lovers 
caught  the  words,  "  They  are  not  happy  !  "     Whether  he  was 


266  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

awake  or  sleeping,  the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken  went 
to  his  daughter's  heart.  She  stole  up  to  the  pallet-bed  on 
which  her  father  lay,  and  kissed  his  forehead.  He  opened 
his  eyes. 

''Ah!  Delphine!"  he  said. 

"  How  are  you  now  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Quite  comfortable.  Do  not  worry  about  me;  I  shall  get 
up  presently.  Don't  stay  with  me,  children;  go,  go  and  be 
happy." 

Eugdne  went  back  with  Delphine  as  far  as  her  door ;  but 
he  was  not  easy  about  Goriot,  and  would  not  stay  to  dinner, 
as  she  proposed.  He  wanted  to  be  back  at  the  Maison 
Vauquer.  Father  Goriot  had  left  his  room,  and  was  just 
sitting  down  to  dinner  as  he  came  in.  Bianchon  had  placed 
himself  where  he  could  watch  the  old  man  carefully;  and 
when  the  old  vermicelli-maker  took  up  his  square  of  bread 
and  smelt  it  to  find  out  the  quality  of  the  flour,  the  medical 
student,  studying  him  closely,  saw  that  the  action  was  purely 
mechanical,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  come  and  sit  over  here,  hospitaller  of  Cochin,"  said 
Eugene. 

Bianchon  went  the  more  willingly  because  his  change  of 
place  brought  him  next  to  the  old  lodger. 

"  What  is  wrong  with  him  ?  "  asked  Rastignac. 

"  It  is  all  up  with  him,  or  I  am  much  mistaken  !  Some- 
thing very  extraordinary  must  have  taken  place ;  he  looks  to 
me  as  if  he  were  in  imminent  danger  of  serous  apoplexy. 
The  lower  part  of  his  face  is  composed  enough,  but  the  upper 
part  is  drawn  and  distorted.  Then  there  is  that  peculiar  look 
about  the  eyes  that  indicates  an  effusion  of  serum  in  the  brain  ; 
they  look  as  if  they  were  covered  with  a  film  of  fine  dust,  do 
you  notice?  I  shall  know  more  about  it  by  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Is  there  any  cure  for  it  ?  " 

"  None.     It  may  be  possible  to  stave  death  off  for  a  time 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  257 

if  a  way  could  be  found  of  setting  up  a  reaction  in  the  lower 
extremities ;  but  if  the  symptoms  do  not  abate  by  to-morrow 
evening,  it  will  be  all  over  with  him,  poor  old  fellow  !  Do 
you  know  what  has  happened  to  bring  this  on  ?  There  must 
have  been  some  violent  shock,  and  his  mind  has  given  way," 

"Yes,  there  was,"  said  Rastignac,  remembering  how  the 
two  daughters  had  struck  blow  on  blow  at  their  father's  heart. 

"  But  Delphine  at  any  rate  loves  her  father,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

That  evening  at  the  opera  Rastignac  chose  his  words  care- 
fully, lest  he  should  give  Mme.  de  Nucingen  needless  alarm. 

"  Do  not  be  anxious  about  him,"  she  said,  however,  as  soon 
as  Eugene  began,  "  our  father  has  really  a  strong  constitu- 
tion, but  this  morning  we  gave  him  a  shock.  Our  whole  for- 
tunes were  in  peril,  so  the  thing  was  serious,  you  see.  I  could 
not  live  if  your  affection  did  not  make  me  insensible  to  trou- 
bles that  I  should  once  have  thought  too  hard  to  bear.  At 
this  moment  I  have  but  one  fear  left,  but  one  misery  to  dread 
— to  lose  the  love  that  has  made  me  feel  so  glad  to  live. 
Everything  else  is  as  nothing  to  me  compared  with  your  love  j 
I  care  for  nothing  else,  for  you  are  all  the  world  to  me.  If  I 
feel  glad  to  be  rich,  it  is  for  your  sake.  To  my  shame  be  it 
said,  I  think  of  my  lover  before  my  father.  Do  you  ask  why  ? 
I  cannot  tell  you,  but  all  my  life  is  in  you.  My  father  gave 
me  a  heart,  but  you  have  taught  it  to  beat.  The  whole  world 
may  condemn  me ;  what  does  it  matter  if  I  stand  acquitted  in 
your  eyes,  for  you  have  no  right  to  think  ill  of  me  for  tlie 
faults  which  a  tyrannous  love  has  forced  me  to  commit  for 
you  !  Do  you  think  me  an  unnatural  daughter  ?  Oh !  no, 
no  one  could  help  loving  such  a  dear  kind  father  as  ours. 
But  how  could  I  hide  the  inevitable  consequences  of  our  mis- 
erable marriages  from  him  ?  Why  did  he  allow  us  to  marry 
when  we  did  ?  Was  it  not  his  duty  to  think  for  us  and  fore- 
see for  us  ?  To-day  I  know  he  suffers  as  much  as  we  do,  but 
how  can  it  be  helped  ?  And  as  for  comforting  him,  we  could 
17 


268  FATHER   GORIOT. 

not  comfort  him  in  the  least.  Our  resignation  would  give 
him  more  pain  and  hurt  him  far  more  than  complaints  and 
upbraidings.  There  are  times  in  life  when  everything  turns 
to  bitterness." 

Eugene  was  silent,  the  artless  and  sincere  outpouring  made 
an  impression  on  him. 

Parisian  women  are  often  false,  intoxicated  with  vanity, 
selfish  and  self-absorbed,  frivolous  and  shallow;  yet  of  all 
women,  when  they  love,  they  sacrifice  their  personal  feelings 
to  their  passion  ;  they  rise  but  so  much  the  higher  for  all 
the  pettiness  overcome  in  their  nature,  and  become  sublime. 
Then  Eugene  was  struck  by  the  profound  discernment  and 
insight  displayed  by  this  woman  in  judging  of  natural  affection, 
when  a  privileged  affection  had  separated  and  set  her  at  a 
distance  apart.    Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  piqued  by  the  silence. 

*'  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  am  thinking  about  what  you  said  just  now.  Hitherto  I 
have  always  felt  sure  that  I  cared  far  more  for  you  than  you 
did  for  me." 

She  smiled,  and  would  not  give  way  to  the  happiness  she 
felt,  lest  their  talk  should  exceed  the  conventional  limits  of 
propriety.  She  had  never  heard  the  vibrating  tones  of  a  sin- 
cere and  youthful  love ;  a  few  more  words,  and  she  feared  for 
her  self-control. 

"Eugdne,"  she  said,  changing  the  conversation,  "I  won- 
der whether  you  know  what  has  been  happening  ?  All  Paris 
will  go  to  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant's  to-morrow.  The  Rochefides 
and  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda  have  agreed  to  keep  the  matter  a 
profound  secret,  but  to-morrow  the  king  will  sign  the  marriage 
contract,  and  your  poor  cousin  the  Vicomtesse  knows  nothing 
of  it  as  yet.  She  cannot  put  off  her  ball,  and  the  Marquis 
will  not  be  there.    People  are  wondering  what  will  happen  ?  " 

**  The  world  laughs  at  baseness  and  connives  at  it.  But 
this  will  kill  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Delphine,  smiling,   "you  do  not  know 


FATHER  GO  RIOT.  259 

that  kind  of  woman.  Why,  all  Paris  will  be  there,  and  so 
shall  I ;  I  ought  to  go  there  for  your  sake." 

"  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  one  of  those  absurd  reports  that 
people  set  in  circulation  here." 

"  We  shall  know  the  truth  to-morrow." 

Eugdne  did  not  return  to  the  Maison  Vauquer.  He  could 
not  forego  the  pleasure  of  occupying  his  new  rooms  in  the  Rue 
d'Artois.  Yesterday  evening  he  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
Delphine  soon  after  midnight,  but  that  night  it  was  Delphine 
who  stayed  with  him  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He 
rose  late,  and  waited  for  Mme.  de  Nucingen,  who  came  about 
noon  to  breakfast  with  him.  Youth  snatches  eagerly  at  these 
rosy  moments  of  happiness,  and  Eugene  had  almost  forgotten 
Goriot's  existence.  The  pretty  things  that  surrounded  him 
were  growing  familiar ;  this  domestication  in  itself  was  one 
long  festival  for  him,  and  Mme.  de  Nucingen  was  there  to 
glorify  it  all  by  her  presence.  It  was  four  o'clock  before 
they  thought  of  Goriot,  and  how  he  had  looked  forward  to 
the  new  life  in  that  house.  Eugene  said  that  the  old  man 
ought  to  be  moved  at  once,  lest  he  should  grow  too  ill  to 
move.  He  left  Delphine,  and  hurried  back  to  the  lodging- 
house.  Neither  Father  Goriot  nor  young  Bianchon  was  in 
the  dining-room  with  the  others. 

"Aha!"  said  the  painter  as  Eugene  came  in,  "Father 
Goriot  has  broken  down  at  last.  Bianchon  is  upstairs  with 
him.  One  of  his  daughters — the  Comtesse  de  Restaurama — 
came  to  see  the  old  gentleman,  and  he  would  get  up  and  go 
out,  and  made  himself  worse.  Society  is  about  to  lose  one 
of  its  brightest  ornaments." 

Rastignac  sprang  to  the  staircase. 

"  Hey  !  Monsieur  Eugene  !  " 

"  Monsieur  Eugdne,  the  mistress  is  calling  you,"  shouted 
Sylvie. 

"It  is  this,  sir,"  said  the  widow.  "You  and  M.  Goriot 
should  by  rights  have  moved  out  on  the  15th  of  February. 


260  FATHER  GO  RIOT. 

That  was  three  days  ago ;  to-day  is  the  i8th,  I  ought  really 
to  be  paid  a  month  in  advance  ;  but  if  you  will  engage  to  pay 
for  both,  I  shall  be  quite  satisfied." 

"  Why  can't  you  trust  him  ?  " 

"  Trust  him,  indeed  !  If  the  old  gentleman  went  off  his 
head  and  died,  those  daughters  of  his  would  not  pay  me  a 
farthing,  and  his  things  won't  fetch  ten  francs.  This  morn- 
ing he  went  out  with  all  the  spoons  and  forks  he  has  left,  I 
don't  know  why.  He  had  got  himself  up  to  look  quite  young, 
and — Lord,  forgive  me — but  I  thought  he  had  rouge  on  his 
cheeks  ;  he  looked  quite  young  again." 

"I  will  be  responsible,"  said  Eugene,  shuddering  with 
horror,  for  he  foresaw  the  end. 

He  climbed  the  stairs  and  reached  Father  Goriot's  room. 
The  old  man  was  tossing  on  his  bed.  Bianchon  was  with 
him. 

**  Good-evening,  father,"  said  Eugene. 

The  old  man  turned  his  glassy  eyes  on  him,  smiled  gently, 
and  said — 

"How  \%she?'' 

"  She  is  quite  well.     But  how  are  you? " 

"There  is  nothing  much  the  matter." 

**  Don't  tire  him,"  said  Bianchon,  drawing  Eugene  into  a 
corner  of  the  room. 

"Well?"  asked  Rastignac. 

**  Nothing  but  a  miracle  can  save  him  now.  Serous  con- 
gestion has  set  in  ;  I  have  put  on  mustard  plasters,  and  luckily 
he  can  feel  them,  they  are  acting." 

"Is  it  possible  to  move  him ? " 

"Quite  out  of  the  question.  He  must  stay  where  he  b, 
and  be  kept  as  quiet  as  possible " 

"Dear  Bianchon,"  said  Eugene,  "we  will  nurse  him  be- 
tween us." 

"  I  have  had  the  head  physician  round  from  my  hospital  to 
see  him." 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  261 

'*  And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  He  will  give  no  opinion  till  to-morrow  evening.  He 
promised  to  look  in  again  at  the  end  of  the  day.  Unluckily, 
the  preposterous  creature  must  needs  go  and  do  something 
foolish  this  morning ;  he  will  not  say  what  it  was.  He  is  as 
obstinate  as  a  mule.  As  soon  as  I  begin  to  talk  to  him  he  pre- 
tends not  to  hear,  and  lies  as  if  he  were  asleep  instead  of 
answering,  or  if  he  opens  his  eyes  he  begins  to  groan.  Some 
time  this  morning  he  went  out  on  foot  in  the  streets,  nobody 
knows  where  he  went,  and  he  took  everything  that  he  had  of 
any  value  with  him.  He  has  been  driving  some  confounded 
bargain,  and  it  has  been  too  much  for  his  strength.  One  of 
his  daughters  has  been  here." 

"Was  it  the  Countess?"  asked  Eugdne.  "A  tall,  dark- 
haired  woman,  with  large  bright  eyes,  slender  figure,  and 
little  feet?" 

"Yes." 

"Leave  him  to  me  for  a  bit,"  said  Rastignac.  "I  will 
make  him  confess;  he  will  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"And  meanwhile  I  will  get  my  dinner.  But  try  not  to 
excite  him  ;  there  is  still  some  hope  left." 

"All  right." 

"  How  they  will  enjoy  themselves  to-morrow,"  said  Father 
Goriot  when  they  were  alone.  "  They  are  going  to  a  grand 
ball." 

"  What  were  you  doing  this  morning,  papa,  to  make  your- 
self so  poorly  this  evening  that  you  have  to  stop  in  bed  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"Did  not  Anastasie  come  to  see  you?"  demanded  Ras- 
tignac. 

"Yes,"  said  Father  Goriot. 

"  Well,  then,  don't  keep  anything  from  me.  What  more 
did  she  want  of  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  she  was  very  miserable,"  he  answered,  gathering  up  all 
his  strength   to  speak.     "  It  was  this  way,  my  boy.     Since 


262  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

that  affair  of  the  diamonds,  Nasie  has  not  had  a  penny  of  her 
own.  For  this  ball  she  had  ordered  a  golden  gown  like  a  set- 
ting for  a  jewel.  Her  mantuamaker,  a  woman  without  a 
conscience,  would  not  give  her  credit,  so  Nasie's  waiting- 
woman  advanced  a  thousand  francs  on  account.  Poor  Nasie  ! 
reduced  to  such  shifts  !  It  cut  me  to  the  heart  to  think  of  it ! 
But  when  Nasie's  maid  saw  how  things  were  between  her 
master  and  mistress,  she  was  afraid  of  losing  her  money,  and 
came  to  an  understanding  with  the  dressmaker,  and  the 
woman  refuses  to  send  the  ball-dress  until  the  money  is  paid. 
The  gown  is  ready,  and  the  ball  is  to-morrow  night ;  Nasie 
was  in  despair.  She  wanted  to  borrow  my  forks  and  spoons 
to  pawn  them.  Her  husband  is  determined  that  she  shall  go 
and  wear  the  diamonds,  so  as  to  contradict  the  stories  that  are 
told  all  over  Paris.  How  can  she  go  to  that  heartless  scoun- 
drel and  say,  'I  owe  a  thousand  francs  to  my  dressmaker; 
pay  her  for  me  ?  '  She  cannot.  I  saw  that  myself.  Delphine 
will  be  there  too  in  a  superb  toilet,  and  Anastasie  ought  not 
to  be  outshone  by  her  younger  sister.  And  then — she  was 
drowned  in  tears,  poor  girl  !  I  felt  so  humbled  yesterday 
when  I  had  not  the  twelve  thousand  francs,  that  I  would  have 
given  the  rest  of  my  miserable  life  to  wipe  out  that  wrong. 
You  see,  I  could  have  borne  anything  once,  but  latterly  this 
want  of  money  has  broken  my  heart.  Oh  !  I  did  not  do  it 
by  halves ;  I  titivated  myself  up  a  bit,  and  went  out  and  sold 
my  spoons  and  forks  and  buckles  for  six  hundred  francs ;  then 
I  went  to  old  Daddy  Gobseck  and  sold  a  year's  interest  in 
my  annuity  for  four  hundred  francs  down.  Pshaw!  I  can 
live  on  dry  bread,  as  I  did  when  I  was  a  young  man  ;  if  I 
have  done  it  before,  I  can  do  it  again.  My  Nasie  shall  have 
one  happy  evening,  at  any  rate.  She  shall  be  smart.  The 
bank-note  for  a  thousand  francs  is  here  under  my  pillow ;  it 
warms  me  to  have  it  lying  here  under  my  head,  for  it  is  going 
to  make  my  poor  Nasie  happy.  She  can  turn  that  bad  girl 
Victoire  out  of  the  house.     A  servant  that  cannot  trust  her 


FATHER   GORIOT.  263 

mistress,  did  any  one  ever  hear  the  like !  I  shall  be  quite 
well  to-morrow.  Nasie  is  coming  at  ten  o'clock.  They  must 
not  think  that  I  am  ill,  or  they  will  not  go  to  the  ball ;  they 
will  stop  and  take  care  of  me.  To-morrow  Nasie  will  come 
and  hold  me  in  her  arms  as  if  I  were  one  of  her  children ; 
her  kisses  will  make  me  well  again.  After  all,  I  might  have 
spent  the  thousand  francs  on  physic ;  I  would  far  rather  give 
them  to  my  little  Nasie,  who  can  charm  all  the  pain  away. 
At  any  rate,  I  am  some  comfort  to  her  in  her  misery ;  and 
that  makes  up  for  my  unkindness  in  buying  an  annuity.  She 
is  in  the  depths,  and  I  cannot  draw  her  out  of  them  now. 
Oh  !  I  will  go  into  business  again,  I  will  buy  wheat  in  Odessa; 
out  there,  wheat  fetches  a  quarter  of  the  price  it  sells  for  here. 
There  is  a  law  against  the  importation  of  grain,  but  the  good 
folk  who  made  the  law  forgot  to  prohibit  the  introduction  of 
wheat   products   and   food    stuffs   made   from   corn.      Hey! 

hey! That  struck  me  this  morning.     There  is  a  fine 

trade  to  be  done  in  starch." 

Eugene,  watching  the  old  man's  face,  thought  that  his 
friend  was  light-headed. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "do  not  talk  any  more,  you  must  rest 

"     Just  then  Bianchon  came  up,  and  Eugene  went  down 

to  dinner. 

The  two  students  sat  up  with  him  that  night,  relieving  each 
other  in  turn.  Bianchon  brought  up  his  medical  books  and 
studied  ;  Eugene  wrote  letters  home  to  his  mother  and  sisters. 
Next  morning  Bianchon  thought  the  symptoms  more  hopeful, 
but  the  patient's  condition  demanded  continual  attention, 
which  the  two  students  alone  were  willing  to  give — a  task 
impossible  to  describe  in  the  squeamish  phraseology  of  the 
epoch.  Leeches  must  be  applied  to  the  wasted  body;  the 
poultices,  hot  foot-baths,  and  other  details  of  the  treatment 
required  the  physical  strength  and  devotion  of  the  two 
young  men.  Mme.  de  Restaud  did  not  come ;  but  she  sent 
a  messenger  for  the  money. 


364  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

**I  expected  she  would  come  herself;  but  it  would  have 
been  a  pity  for  her  to  come,  she  would  have  been  anxious 
about  me,"  said  the  father,  and  to  all  appearance  he  was  well 
content. 

At  seven  o'clock  that  evening  Th6r6se  came  with  a  letter 
from  Delphine. 

"What  are  you  doing,  dear  friend?  I  have  been  loved 
for  a  very  little  while,  and  am  I  neglected  already  ?  In  the 
confidences  of  heart  and  heart,  I  have  learned  to  know  your 
soul — you  are  too  noble  not  to  be  faithful  for  ever,  for  you 
know  that  love  with  all  its  infinite  subtle  changes  of  feelings 
is  never  the  same.  Once  you  said,  as  we  were  listening  to 
the  prayer  in  <  Mos6  in  Egitto,'  *  For  some  it  is  the  monotony 
of  a  single  note;  for  others,  it  is  the  infinite  of  sound.' 
Remember  that  I  am  expecting  you  this  evening  to  take  me 
to  Mme.  de  Beauseant's  ball.  Every  one  knows  now  that 
the  king  signed  M.  d'Ajuda's  marriage-contract  this  morning, 
and  the  poor  Vicomtesse  knew  nothing  of  it  until  two  o'clock 
this  afternoon.  All  Paris  will  flock  to  her  house,  of  course, 
just  as  a  crowd  fills  the  Place  de  Gr^ve  to  see  an  execution. 
It  is  horrible,  is  it  not,  to  go  out  of  curiosity  to  see  if  she  will 
hide  her  anguish,  and  whether  she  will  die  courageously  ?  I 
certainly  should  not  go,  my  friend,  if  I  had  been  at  her  house 
before  ;  but,  of  course,  she  will  not  receive  society  any  more 
after  this,  and  all  my  efforts  would  be  in  vain.  My  position 
is  a  very  unusual  one,  and,  besides,  I  am  going  there  partly 
on  your  account.  I  am  waiting  for  you.  If  you  are  not 
beside  me  in  less  than  two  hours,  I  do  not  know  whether  I 
could  forgive  such  treason." 

Rastignac  took  up  a  pen  and  wrote — 

**  I  am  waiting  till  the  doctor  comes  to  know  if  there  is 
any  hope  of  your  father's  life.     He  is  lying  dangerously  ill. 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  265 

I  will  come  and  bring  you  the  news,  but  I  am  afraid  it  may 
be  a  sentence  of  death.  When  I  come  you  can  decide  whether 
you  can  go  to  the  ball.     Yours  a  thousand  times." 

At  half-past  eight  the  doctor  arrived.  He  did  not  take  a 
very  hopeful  view  of  the  case,  but  thought  that  there  was  no 
immediate  danger.  Improvements  and  relapses  might  be 
expected,  and  the  good  man's  life  and  reason  hung  in  the 
balance. 

"It  would  be  better  for  him  to  die  at  once,"  the  doctor 
said  as  he  took  leave. 

Eugene  left  Goriot  to  Bianchon's  care,  and  went  to  carry 
the  sad  news  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen.  Family  feeling  lingered 
in  her,  and  this  must  put  an  end  for  the  present  to  her  plans 
of  amusement. 

"  Tell  her  to  enjoy  her  evening  as  if  nothing  had  happened," 
cried  Goriot.  He  had  been  lying  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  but  he 
suddenly  sat  upright  as  Eugene  went  out. 

Eugene,  half-heartbroken,  entered  Delphine's  room.  Her 
hair  had  been  dressed ;  she  wore  her  dancing  slippers ;  she 
had  only  to  put  on  her  ball-dress  j  but  when  the  artist  is 
giving  the  finishing  stroke  to  his  creation,  the  last  touches 
require  more  time  than  the  whole  ground-work  of  the  picture. 

"  Why  !  you  are  not  dressed  !  "  she  cried. 

"Madame,  your  father " 

"  My  father  again  !  "  she  exclaimed,  breaking  in  upon  him. 
"You  need  not  teach  me  what  is  due  to  my  father,  I  have  known 
my  father  this  long  while.  Not  a  word,  Eugene.  I  will  hear 
what  you  have  to  say  when  you  are  dressed.  My  carriage  is 
waiting,  take  it,  go  round  to  your  rooms  and  dress,  Therdse 
has  put  out  everything  in  readiness  for  you.  Come  back  as 
soon  as  you  can ;  we  will  talk  about  my  father  on  the  way  to 
Mme.  de  Beauseant's.  We  must  go  early ;  if  we  have  to  wait 
our  turn  in  a  row  of  carriages,  we  shall  be  lucky  if  we  get 
there  by  eleven  o'clock." 


266  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"Madame " 


*'  Quick  !  not  a  word !  "  she  cried,  darting  into  her  dress- 
ing-room for  a  necklace. 

"  Do  go,  Monsieur  Eugene,  or  you  will  vex  madame,"  said 
Therese,  hurrying  him  away ;  and  Eugene  was  too  horror- 
stricken  by  this  elegant  parricide  to  resist. 

He  went  to  his  rooms  and  dressed,  sad,  thoughtful,  and 
dispirited.  The  world  of  Paris  was  like  an  ocean  of  mud  for 
him  just  then ;  and  it  seemed  that  whoever  set  foot  in  that 
black  mire  must  needs  sink  into  it  up  to  the  chin. 

'*  Their  crimes  are  paltry,"  said  Eugene  to  himself.  "  Vau- 
trin  was  greater." 

He  had  seen  society  in  its  three  great  phases — obedience, 
struggle,  and  revolt ;  the  family,  the  world,  and  Vautrin  ;  and 
he  hesitated  in  his  choice.  Obedience  was  dull,  revolt  im- 
possible, struggle  hazardous.  His  thoughts  wandered  back  to 
the  home  circle.  He  thought  of  the  quiet  uneventful  life,  the 
pure  happiness  of  the  days  spent  among  those  who  loved  him 
there.  Those  loving  and  beloved  beings  passed  their  lives  in 
obedience  to  the  natural  laws  of  the  hearth,  and  in  that  obedi- 
ence found  a  deep  and  constant  serenity,  unvexed  by  torments 
such  as  these.  Yet,  for  all  his  good  impulses,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  make  profession  of  the  religion  of  pure  souls 
to  Delphine,  nor  to  prescribe  the  duties  of  piety  to  her  in  the 
name  of  love.  His  education  had  begun  to  bear  its  fruits; 
he  loved  selfishly  already.  Besides,  his  tact  had  discovered 
to  him  the  real  nature  of  Delphine ;  he  divined  instinctively 
that  she  was  capable  of  stepping  over  her  father's  corpse  to 
go  to  the  ball ;  and  within  himself  he  felt  that  he  had  neither 
the  strength  of  mind  to  play  the  part  of  mentor,  nor  the 
strength  of  character  to  vex  her,  nor  the  courage  to  leave  her 
to  go  alone. 

"  She  would  never  forgive  me  for  putting  her  in  the  wrong 
over  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  Then  he  turned  the  doctor's 
dictum  over  in  his  mind ;  he  tried  to  believe  that  Goriot  was 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  267 

not  so  dangerously  ill  as  he  had  imagined,  and  ended  by 
collecting  together  a  sufficient  quantity  of  traitorous  excuses 
for  Delphine's  conduct.  She  did  not  know  how  ill  her  father 
was ;  tlie  kind  old  man  himself  would  have  made  her  go  to 
the  bail  if  she  had  gone  to  see  him.  So  often  it  happens  that 
this  one  or  that  stands  condemned  by  the  social  laws  that 
govern  family  relations ;  and  yet  there  are  peculiar  circum- 
stances in  the  case,  differences  of  temperament,  divergent 
interests,  innumerable  complications  of  family  life  that  excuse 
the  apparent  offense. 

Eugene  did  riot  wish  to  see  too  clearly  ;  he  was  ready  to 
sacrifice  his  conscience  to  his  mistress.  Within  the  last  few 
days  his  whole  life  had  undergone  a  change.  Woman  had 
entered  into  his  world  and  thrown  it  into  chaos,  family 
claims  dwindled  away  before  her  ;  she  had  appropriated  all 
his  being  to  her  uses.  Rastignac  and  Delphine  found  each 
other  at  a  crisis  in  their  lives  when  their  union  gave  them  the 
most  poignant  bliss.  Their  passion,  so  long  proved,  had 
only  gained  in  strength  by  the  gratified  desire  that  often 
extinguishes  passion.  This  woman  was  his,  and  Eugene 
recognized  that  not  until  then  had  he  loved  her ;  perhaps 
love  is  only  gratitude  for  pleasure.  This  woman,  vile  or  sub- 
lime, he  adored  for  the  pleasures  she  had  brought  as  her 
dower ;  and  Delphine  loved  Rastignac  as  Tantalus  would 
have  loved  some  angel  who  had  satisfied  his  hunger  and 
quenched  the  burning  thirst  in  his  parched  throat. 

"Well,"  said  Mme.  de  Nucingen  when  he  came  back  in 
evening  dress,  "  how  is  my  father?  " 

"  Very  dangerously  ill,"  he  answered  ;  *'  if  you  will  grant 
me  a  proof  of  your  affection,  we  will  just  go  in  to  see  him 
on  the  way." 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "Yes,  but  afterwards.  Dear 
Eugene,  do  be  nice,  and  don't  preach  to  me.     Come." 

They  set  out  for  the  ball.  Eugene  said  nothing  for  a  while, 
apparently  absorbed  in  deep  meditation. 


268  FATHER  GORIOT. 

"  What  is  it  now?  "  she  asked. 

"I  can  hear  the  death-rattle  in  your  father's  throat,"  he 
said,  almost  angrily.  And  with  the  hot  indignation  of  youth, 
he  told  the  story  of  Mme.  de  Restaud's  vanity  and  cruelty,  of 
her  father's  final  act  of  self-sacrifice,  that  had  brought  about 
this  struggle  between  life  and  death,  of  the  price  that  had 
been  paid  for  Anastasie's  golden  embroideries.  Delphine 
cried. 

"  I  shall  look  frightful,"  she  thought.     She  dried  her  tears. 

"  I  will  nurse  my  father;  I  will  not  leave  his  bedside,"  she 
said  aloud. 

**Ah!  now  you  are  as  I  would  have  you,"  exclaimed 
Rastignac. 

The  lamps  of  five  hundred  carriages  lit  up  the  darkness 
about  the  Hotel  de  Beaus6ant.  A  gendarme  in  all  the  glory 
of  his  uniform  stood  on  either  side  of  the  brightly  lighted 
gateway.  The  great  world  was  flocking  thither  that  night  in 
its  eager  curiosity  to  see  the  great  lady  at  the  moment  of  her 
fall,  and  the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor  were  already  full  to 
overflowing,  when  Mme.  de  Nucingen  and  Rastignac  appeared. 
Never  since  Louis  XIV.  tore  her  lover  away  from  La  Grande 
Mademoiselle,  and  the  whole  court  hastened  to  visit  that 
unfortunate  princess,  had  a  disastrous  love  affair  made  such  a 
sensation  in  Paris.  But  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  almost 
royal  house  of  Burgundy  had  risen  proudly  above  her  pain, 
and  moved  till  the  last  moment  like  a  queen  in  this  world — 
its  vanities  had  always  been  valueless  for  her,  save  in  so  far  as 
they  contributed  to  the  triumph  of  her  passion.  The  salons 
were  filled  with  the  most  beautiful  women  in  Paris,  resplendent 
in  their  toilets,  and  radiant  with  smiles.  Ministers  and 
ambassadors,  the  most  distinguished  men  at  court,  men  be- 
dizened with  decorations,  stars,  and  ribbons,  men  who  bore 
the  most  illustrious  names  in  France,  had  gathered  about  the 
Vicomtesse. 

The  music  of  the  orchestra  vibrated  in  wave  after  wave  of 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  269 

sound  from  the  golden  ceiling  of  the  palace,  now  made  deso- 
late for  its  queen. 

Madame  de  Beauseant  stood  at  the  door  of  the  first  salon 
to  receive  the  guests  who  were  styled  her  friends.  She  was 
dressed  in  white,  and  wore  no  ornament  in  the  plaits  of 
hair  braided  about  her  head ;  her  face  was  calm  ;  there  was 
no  sign  there  of  pride,  nor  of  pain,  nor  of  joy  that  she  did 
not  feel.  No  one  could  read  her  soul ;  she  stood  there  like 
some  Niobe  carved  in  marble.  For  a  few  intimate  friends 
there  was  a  tinge  of  satire  in  her  smile  ;  but  no  scrutiny  saw 
any  change  in  her,  nor  had  she  looked  otherwise  in  the  days 
of  the  glory  of  her  happiness.  The  most  callous  of  her  guests 
admired  her  as  young  Rome  applauded  some  gladiator  who 
could  die  smiling.  It  seemed  as  if  society  had  adorned  itself 
for  a  last  audience  of  one  of  its  sovereigns. 

"  I  was  afraid  that  you  would  not  come,"  she  said  to  Ras- 
tignac. 

"Madame,"  he  said,  in  an  unsteady  voice,  taking  her 
speech  as  a  reproach,  "  I  shall  be  the  last  to  go,  that  is  why  I 
am  here." 

"  Good,"  she  said,  and  she  took  his  hand.  "  You  are  per- 
haps the  only  one  that  I  can  trust  here  among  all  these.  Oh, 
my  friend,  when  you  love,  love  a  woman  whom  you  are  sure 
that  you  can  love  always.     Never  forsake  a  woman." 

She  took  Rastignac's  arm,  and  went  towards  a  sofa  in  the 
card-room. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  the  Marquis,"  she  said.  "Jacques, 
my  footman,  will  go  with  you ;  he  has  a  letter  that  you  will 
take.  I  am  asking  the  Marquis  to  give  my  letters  back  to  me. 
He  will  give  them  all  up,  I  like  to  think  that.  When  yoH 
have  my  letters,  go  up  to  my  room  with  them.  Some  one 
shall  bring  me  word." 

She  rose  to  go  to  meet  the  Duchesse  de  Langeais,  her  most 
intimate  friend,  who  had  come  like  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Rastignac  went.     He  asked  for  the  Marquis  d'Ajuda  at  the 


270  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Hotel  Rochefide,  feeling  certain  that  the  latter  would  be 
spending  his  evening  there,  and  so  it  proved.  The  Marquis 
went  to  his  own  house  with  Rastignac,  and  gave  a  casket  to 
the  student,  saying  as  he  did  so,  "  They  are  all  there." 

He  seemed  as  if  he  was  about  to  say  something  to  Eugene* 
to  ask  about  the  ball,  or  the  Vicomtesse ;  perhaps  he  was  on 
the  brink  of  the  confession  that,  even  then,  he  was  in  despair, 
and  knew  that  his  marriage  would  be  a  fatal  mistake ;  but  a 
proud  gleam  shone  in  his  eyes,  and  with  deplorable  courage 
he  kept  his  noblest  feelings  a  secret. 

"  Do  not  even  mention  my  name  to  her,  my  dear  Eugene." 
He  grasped  Rastignac's  hand  sadly  and  affectionately,  and 
turned  away  from  him.  Eugene  went  back  to  the  Hotel 
Beauseant,  the  servant  took  him  to  the  Vicomtesse's  room. 
There  were  signs  there  of  preparations  for  a  journey.  He  sat 
down  by  the  fire,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  cedar- wood  casket,  and 
fell  into  deep  mournful  musings.  Mme.  de  Beauseant  loomed 
up  largely  in  these  imaginings,  like  a  goddess  in  the  Iliad, 

"  Ah  !  my  friend  ! "  said  the  Vicomtesse;  she  crossed 

the  room  and  laid  her  hand  on  Rastignac's  shoulder.  He 
saw  the  tears  in  his  cousin's  uplifted  e)'es,  saw  that  one  hand 
was  raised  to  take  the  casket,  and  that  the  fingers  of  the  other 
trembled.  Suddenly  she  took  the  casket,  put  it  in  the  fire, 
and  watched  it  burn. 

"They  are  dancing,"  she  said.  "They  all  came  very 
early  ;  but  death  will  belong  in  coming.  Hush  !  my  friend," 
and  she  laid  a  finger  on  Rastignac's  lips,  seeing  that  he  was 
about  to  speak.  "  I  shall  never  see  Paris  again.  I  am  taking 
my  leave  of  this  world.  At  five  o'clock  this  morning  I  shall 
set  out  on  my  journey  ;  I  mean  to  bury  myself  in  the  re- 
motest part  of  Normandy.  I  have  had  very  little  time  to 
make  my  arrangements  ;  since  three  o'clock  this  afternoon 
I  have  been  busy  signing  documents,  setting  my  affairs  in 
order;  there  was  no  one  whom  I  could  send  to " 

She  broke  off. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  271 


"  He  was  sure  to  be " 

Again  she  broke  off;  the  weight  of  her  sorrow  was  more 
than  she  could  bear.  In  such  moments  as  these  everything 
is  agony,  and  some  words  are  impossible  to  utter. 

"And  so  I  counted  upon  you  to  do  me  this  last  piece 
of  service  this  evening,"  she  said.  "I  should  like  to  give 
you  some  pledge  of  friendship.  I  shall  often  think  of  you. 
You  have  seemed  to  me  to  be  kind  and  noble,  fresh-hearted 
and  true,  in  this  world  where  such  qualities  are  seldom 
found.  I  should  like  you  to  think  sometimes  of  me.  Stay," 
she  said,  glancing  about  her,  "  there  is  this  box  that  has  held 
my  gloves.  Every  time  I  opened  it  before  going  to  a  ball  or 
to  the  theatre,  I  used  to  feel  that  I  must  be  beautiful,  because 
I  was  so  happy ;  and  I  never  touched  it  except  to  lay  some 
gracious  memory  in  it :  there  is  so  much  of  my  old  self  in  it, 
of  a  Madame  de  Beauseant  who  now  lives  no  longer.  Will 
you  take  it  ?  I  will  leave  directions  that  it  is  to  be  sent  to 
you  in  the  Rue  d'Artois.  Mme.  de  Nucingen  looked  very 
charming  this  evening.  Eugene,  you  must  love  her.  Perhaps 
we  may  never  see  each  other  again,  my  friend ;  but  be  sure 
of  this,  that  I  shall  pray  for  you  who  have  been  kind  to 
me.  Now  let  us  go  downstairs.  People  shall  not  think  that 
I  am  weeping.  I  have  all  time  and  eternity  before  me,  and 
where  I  am  going  I  shall  be  alone,  and  no  one  will  ask  me  the 
reason  of  my  tears.     One  last  look  round  first." 

She  stood  for  a  moment.  Then  she  covered  her  eyes  with 
her  hands  for  an  instant,  dashed  away  the  tears,  bathed  her  face 
with  cold  water,  and  took  the  student's  arm. 

"  Let  us  go  !  "  she  said. 

This  suffering,  endured  with  such  noble  fortitude,  shook 
Eugene  with  a  more  violent  emotion  than  he  had  felt  before. 
They  went  back  to  the  ballroom,  and  Mme.  de  Beausdant 
went  through  the  rooms  on  Eugdne's  arm — the  last  delicately 
gracious  act  of  a  gracious  woman.  In  another  moment  he 
saw  the  sisters,  Mme.  de  Restaud  and  Mme.  de  Nucingen. 


272  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

The  Countess  shone  in  all  the  glory  of  her  magnificent 
diamonds;  every  stone  must  have  scorched  like  fire,  she 
was  never  to  wear  them  again.  Strong  as  love  and  pride 
might  be  in  her,  she  found  it  difficult  to  meet  her  husband's 
eyes.  The  sight  of  her  was  scarcely  calculated  to  lighten 
Rastignac's  sad  thoughts  ;  through  the  blaze  of  those  diamonds 
he  seemed  to  see  the  wretched  pallet-bed  on  which  Father 
Goriot  was  lying.  The  Vicomtesse  misread  his  melancholy ; 
she  withdrew  her  hand  from  his  arm. 

**  Come,"  she  said  to  him,  "  I  must  not  deprive  you  of  a 
pleasure." 

Eugene  was  soon  claimed  by  Delphine.  She  was  delighted 
with  the  impression  that  she  had  made,  and  eager  to  lay  at 
her  lover's  feet  the  homage  she  had  received  in  this  new 
world  in  which  she  hoped  to  live  and  move,  henceforth,  a  con- 
spicuous figure. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Nasie  ?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  She  has  discounted  everything,  even  her  own  father's 
death,"  said  Rastignac. 

Towards  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  rooms  began  to 
empty.  A  little  later  the  music  ceased,  and  the  Duchesse  de 
Langeais  and  Rastignac  were  left  in  the  great  ballroom.  The 
Vicomtesse,  who  thought  to  find  the  student  there  alone, 
came  back  there  at  the  last.  She  had  taken  leave  of  M.  de 
Beaus6ant,  who  had  gone  off"  to  bed,  saying  again  as  he  went, 
"  It  is  a  great  pity,  my  dear,  to  shut  yourself  up  at  your  age  ! 
Pray  stay  among  us." 

Mme.  de  Beaus^ant  saw  the  Duchess,  and,  in  spite  of  her- 
self, an  exclamation  broke  from  her. 

"  I  saw  how  it  was,  Clara,"  said  Mme.  de  Langeais.  "You 
are  going  from  among  us,  and  you  will  never  come  back. 
But  you  must  not  go  until  you  have  heard  me,  until  we  have 
understood  each  other." 

She  took  her  friend's  arm,  and  they  went  together  into  the 
next  room.     There  the  Duchess  looked  at  her  with  tears  in 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  273 

her  eyes  ;  she  held  her  friend  in  a  close  embrace,  and  kissed 
her  cheek. 

**  I  could  not  let  you  go  without  a  word,  dearest;  the  re- 
morse would  have  been  too  hard  to  bear.  You  can  count  upon 
me  as  surely  as  upon  yourself.  You  have  shown  yourself  great 
this  evening ;  I  feel  that  I  am  worthy  of  your  friendship,  and 
I  mean  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  it.  I  have  not  always  been 
kind ;  I  was  in  the  wrong ;  forgive  me,  dearest ;  I  wish  I 
could  unsay  anything  that  may  have  hurt  you  ;  I  take  back 
those  words.  One  common  sorrow  has  brought  us  together 
again,  for  I  do  not  know  which  of  us  is  the  more  miserable. 
M.  de  Montreveau  was  not  here  to-night ;  do  you  understand 
what  that  means?  None  of  those  who  saw  you  to-night, 
Clara,  will  ever  forget  you.  I  mean  to  make  one  last  effort. 
If  I  fail,  I  shall  go  into  a  convent.  Clara,  where  are  you 
going?" 

"  Into  Normandy,  to  Courcelles.  I  shall  love  and  pray 
there  until  the  day  when  God  shall  take  me  from  this 
world.  M.  de  Rastignac !  "  called  the  Vicomtesse,  in  a 
tremulous  voice,  remembering  that  the  young  man  was 
waiting  there. 

The  student  knelt  to  kiss  his  cousin's  hand. 

"  Good-by,  Antoinette  !  "  said  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant.  "  May 
you  be  happy."  She  turned  to  the  student.  "You  are 
young,"  she  said;  you  have  some  beliefs  still  left.  I  have 
been  privileged,  like  some  dying  people,  to  find  sincere  and 
reverent  feeling  in  those  about  me  as  I  take  my  leave  of  this 
world." 

It  was  nearly  five  o'clock  that  morning  when  Rastignac 
came  away.  He  had  put  Mme.  de  Beaus^ant  into  her  trav- 
eling carriage,  and  received  her  last  farewells,  spoken  amid 
fast-falling  tears ;  for  no  greatness  is  so  great  that  it  can  rise 
above  the  laws  of  human  affection,  or  live  beyond  the  juris- 
diction of  pain,  as  certain  demagogues  would  have  the  people 
believe.  Eugdne  returned  on  foot  to  the  Maison  Vauquer 
18 


274  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

through  the  cold  and  darkness.  His  education  was  nearly 
complete. 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  poor  Father  Goriot,"  said  Bianchon, 
as  Rastignac  came  into  the  room.  Eugene  looked  for  a  while 
at  the  sleeping  man,  then  he  turned  to  his  friend.  *'  Dear 
fellow,  you  are  content  with  the  modest  career  you  have 
marked  out  for  yourself;  keep  to  it.  I  am  in  hell,  and  I 
must  stay  there.  Believe  everything  that  you  hear  said  of 
the  world,  nothing  is  too  impossibly  bad.  No  Juvenal  could 
paint  the  horrors  hidden  away  under  the  covering  of  gems 
and  gold." 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Bianchon  came  to  wake 
Rastignac,  and  begged  him  to  take  charge  of  Goriot,  who  had 
grown  worse  as  the  day  wore  on.  The  medical  student  was 
obliged  to  go  out. 

**  Poor  old  man,  he  has  not  two  days  to  live,  maybe  not 
many  hours,"  he  said  ;  "  but  we  must  do  our  utmost,  all  the 
same,  to  fight  the  disease.  It  will  be  a  very  troublesome  case, 
and  we  shall  want  money.  We  can  nurse  him  between  us, 
of  course,  but,  for  my  own  part,  I  have  not  a  penny.  I  have 
turned  out  his  pockets,  and  rummaged  through  his  drawers — 
result,  nix.  I  asked  him  about  it  while  his  mind  was  clear, 
and  he  told  me  he  had  not  a  farthing  of  his  own.  What  have 
you?" 

"I  have  twenty  francs  left,"  said  Rastignac;  "but  I  will 
take  them  to  the  roulette  table,  I  shall  be  sure  to  win." 

"And  if  you  lose?  " 

"  Then  I  shall  go  to  his  sons-in-law  and  his  daughters  and 
ask  them  for  money." 

"And  suppose  they  refuse?"  Bianchon  retorted.  "The 
most  pressing  thing  just  now  is  not  really  money ;  we  must 
put  mustard  poultices,  as  hot  as  they  can  be  made,  on  his 
feet  and  legs.  If  he  calls  out,  there  is  still  some  hope  for 
him.  You  know  how  to  set  about  doing  it,  and,  besides, 
Christophe  will  help  you.     I  am  going  round  to  the  dispen- 


FATHER   GO  RIOT,  276 

sary  to  persuade  them  to  let  us  have  the  things  we  want  on 
credit.  It  is  a  pity  that  we  could  not  move  him  to  the  hos- 
pital; poor  fellow,  he  would  be  better  there.  Well,  come 
along,  I  leave  you  in  charge ;  you  must  stay  with  him  till  I 
come  back." 

The  two  young  men  went  back  to  the  room  where  the  old 
man  was  lying.  Eugene  was  startled  at  the  change  in  Goriot's 
face,  so  livid,  distorted,  and  feeble. 

"  How  are  you,  papa?  "  he  said,  bending  over  the  pallet- 
bed.  Goriot  turned  his  dull  eyes  upon  Eugene,  looked  at 
him  attentively,  and  did  not  recognize  him.  It  was  more 
than  the  student  could  bear ;  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"Bianchon,  ought  we  to  have  curtains  put  up  in  the 
windows  ? ' ' 

"  No,  the  temperature  and  the  light  do  not  afifect  him  now. 
It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  him  if  he  felt  heat  or  cold  ',  but 
we  must  have  a  fire  in  any  case  to  make  tisanes  and  heat  the 
other  things.  I  will  send  round  a  few  sticks ;  they  will  last 
till  we  can  have  in  some  firewood.  I  burned  all  the  bark 
fuel  you  had  left,  as  well  as  his,  poor  man,  yesterday  and 
during  the  night.  The  place  was  so  damp  that  the  water 
stood  in  drops  on  the  walls;  I  could  hardly  get  the  room  dry. 
Christophe  came  in  and  swept  the  floor,  but  the  place  is  like 
a  stable  ;  I  had  to  burn  juniper,  the  smell  was  something 
horrible." 

"  Mon  Dieu  r^  said  Rastignac.  *'To  think  of  those 
daughters  of  his." 

"  One  moment,  if  he  asks  for  something  to  drink,  give  him 
this,"  said  the  house  student,  pointing  to  a  large  white  jar. 
"  If  he  begins  to  groan,  and  the  belly  feels  hot  and  hard  to  the 
touch,  you  know  what  to  do ;  get  Christophe  to  help  you.  If 
he  should  happen  to  grow  much  excited,  and  begin  to  talk  a 
good  deal,  and  even  to  ramble  in  his  talk,  do  not  be  alarmed. 
It  would  not  be  a  bad  symptom.  But  send  Christophe  to  the 
Hospice  Cochin.     Our  doctor,  my  chum,  or  I  will  come  and 


276  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

apply  moxas.  We  had  a  great  consultation  this  morning 
while  you  were  asleep.  A  surgeon,  a  pupil  of  Gall's,  came, 
and  our  house  surgeon,  and  the  head  physician  from  the 
Hotel-Dieu.  Those  gentlemen  considered  that  the  symptoms 
were  very  unusual  and  interesting  ;  the  case  must  be  carefully 
watched,  for  it  throws  a  light  on  several  obscure  and  rather 
important  scientific  problems.  One  of  the  authorities  says 
that  if  there  is  more  pressure  of  serum  on  one  or  other  portion 
of  the  brain,  it  should  affect  his  mental  capacities  in  such  and 
such  directions.  So  if  he  should  talk,  notice  very  carefully 
what  kind  of  ideas  his  mind  seems  to  run  on;  whether 
memory,  or  penetration,  or  the  reasoning  faculties  are  exer- 
cised ;  whether  sentiments  or  practical  questions  fill  his 
thoughts  ;  whether  he  makes  forecasts  or  dwells  on  the  past ; 
in  fact,  you  must  be  prepared  to  give  an  accurate  report  of 
him.  It  is  quite  likely  that  the  extravasation  fills  the  whole 
brain,  in  which  case  he  will  die  in  the  imbecile  state  in  which 
he  is  lying  now.  You  cannot  tell  anything  about  these  mys- 
terious nervous  diseases.  Suppose  the  crash  came  here,"  said 
Bianchon,  touching  the  back  of  the  head,  "very  strange 
things  have  been  known  to  happen  ;  the  brain  sometimes 
partially  recovers,  and  death  is  delayed.  Or  the  congested 
matter  may  pass  out  of  the  brain  altogether  through  channels 
which  can  only  be  determined  by  a  post-mortem  examination. 
There  is  an  old  man  at  the  Hospital  for  Incurables,  an  imbe- 
cile patient,  in  his  case  the  effusion  has  followed  the  direction 
of  the  spinal  cord ;  he  suffers  the  most  horrible  agonies,  but 
still  he  lives." 

"  Did  they  enjoy  themselves  ?  "  It  was  Father  Goriot  who 
spoke.     He  had  recognized  Eugene. 

"  Oh  !  he  thinks  of  nothing  but  his  daughters,"  said  Bian- 
chon. "  Scores  of  times  last  night  he  said  to  me,  '  They  are 
dancing  now !  She  has  her  dress.'  He  called  them  by 
their  names.  He  made  me  cry,  the  devil  take  it,  calling  with 
that  tone  in  his  voice,  for  *  Delphine  !  my  little  Delphine ! 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  277 

and  Nasie ! '  Upon  my  word,"  said  the  medical  student, 
**  it  was  enough  to  make  any  one  burst  out  crying." 

"Delphine,"  said  the  old  man,  "  she  is  there,  isn't  she?  I 
knew  she  was  there,"  and  his  eyes  sought  the  door. 

"  I  am  going  down  now  to  tell  Sylvie  to  get  the  poultices 
ready,"  said  Bianchon.     "They  ought  to  go  on  at  once." 

Rastignac  was  left  alone  with  the  old  man.  He  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  and  gazed  at  the  face  before  him,  so  horribly 
changed  that  it  was  shocking  to  see. 

"Noble  natures  cannot  dwell  in  this  world,"  he  said; 
"  Mme.  de  Beauseant  has  fled  from  it,  and  there  he  lies  dying. 
What  place  indeed  is  there  in  the  shallow,  petty,  frivolous 
thing  called  society,  for  noble  thoughts  and  feelings?" 

Pictures  of  yesterday's  ball  rose  up  in  his  memory,  in 
strange  contrast  to  the  death-bed  scene  before  him.  Bianchon 
suddenly  appeared. 

"I  say,  Eugene,  I  have  just  seen  our  head  surgeon  at  the 
hospital,  and  I  ran  all  the  way  back  here.  If  the  old  man 
shows  any  signs  of  reason,  if  he  begins  to  talk,  cover  him  with 
a  mustard  poultice  from  the  neck  to  the  base  of  the  spine,  and 
send  round  for  us." 

"  Dear  Bianchon,"  exclaimed  Eugene. 

**  Oh  !  it  is  an  interesting  case  from  a  scientific  point  of 
view,"  said  the  medical  student,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
neophyte. 

"So!"  said  Eugene.  "Am  I  really  the  only  one  who 
cares  for  the  poor  old  man  for  his  own  sake  ?  " 

"You  would  not  have  said  so  if  you  had  seen  me  this 
morning,"  returned  Bianchon,  who  did  not  take  offense 
at  this  speech.  "  Doctors  who  have  seen  a  good  deal  of 
practice  never  see  anything  but  the  disease,  but,  my  dear  fel- 
low, I  can  see  the  patient  still." 

He  went.  Eugene  was  left  alone  with  the  old  man,  and 
with  an  apprehension  of  a  crisis  that  set  in,  in  fact,  before 
very  long. 


278  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

'*  Ah  !  dear  boy,  is  that  you?  "  said  Father  Goriot,  recog- 
nizing Eugene. 

"  Did  you  feel  better?  "  asked  the  law  student,  taking  his 
hand. 

"  Yes.  My  head  felt  as  if  it  were  being  screwed  in  a  vise, 
but  now  it  is  set  free  again.  Did  you  see  my  girls  ?  They 
will  be  here  directly ;  as  soon  as  they  know  that  I  am  ill  they 
will  hurry  here  at  once ;  they  used  to  take  such  care  of  me  in 
the  Rue  de  la  Jussienne  !  Great  heavens  !  if  only  my  room 
was  fit  for  them  to  come  into  !  There  has  been  a  young  man 
here,  who  has  burned  up  all  my  bark  fuel." 

"  I  can  hear  Christophe  coming  upstairs,"  Eugene  answered. 
"  He  is  bringing  up  some  firewood  that  that  young  man  has 
sent  you." 

"  Good,  but  how  am  I  to  pay  for  the  wood  ?  I  have  not  a 
penny  left,  dear  boy.  I  have  given  everything,  everything. 
I  am  a  pauper  now.  Well,  at  least  the  golden  gown  was 
grand,  was  it  not  ?  (Ah !  what  pain  this  is !)  Thanks, 
Christophe  !  God  will  reward  you,  my  boy;  I  have  nothing 
Jeft  now." 

Eugene  went  over  to  Christophe  and  whispered  in  the 
man's  ear,  "  I  will  pay  you  well,  and  Sylvie  too,  for  your 
trouble." 

"  My  daughters  told  you  that  they  were  coming,  didn't 
they,  Christophe  ?  Go  again  to  them,  and  I  will  give  you 
five  francs.  Tell  them  that  I  am  not  feeling  well,  that  I 
should  like  to  kiss  them  both  and  see  them  once  again  before 
I  die.  Tell  them  that,  but  don't  alarm  them  more  than  you 
can  help." 

Rastignac  signed  to  Christophe  to  go,  and  the  man  hur- 
riedly departed. 

"  They  will  come  before  long,"  the  old  man  went  on.  "  I 
know  them  so  well.  My  tender-hearted  Delphine  !  If  I  am 
going  to  die,  she  will  feel  it  so  much  !  And  so  will  Nasie. 
I  do  not  want  to  die  ;  they  will  cry  if  I  die ;  and  if  I  die, 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  279 

dear  Eugene,  I  shall  not  see  them  any  more.  It  will  be  very- 
dreary  there  where  I  am  going.  For  a  father  it  is  hell  to  be 
without  your  children ;  I  have  served  my  apprenticeship 
already  since  they  married.  My  heaven  was  in  the  Rue  de  la 
Jussienne.  Eugene,  do  you  think  that  if  I  go  to  heaven  I 
could  come  back  to  earth,  and  be  near  them  in  spirit?  I 
have  heard  some  such  things  said.  Is  it  true  ?  It  is  as  if  I 
could  see  them  at  this  moment  as  they  used  to  be  when  we  all 
lived  in  the  Rue  de  la  Jussienne.  They  used  to  come  down- 
stairs of  a  morning.  '  Good-morning,  papa !  '  they  used  to 
say ;  and  I  would  take  them  on  my  knees ;  we  had  all  sorts  of 
little  games  of  play  together,  and  they  had  such  pretty  coax- 
ing ways.  We  always  had  breakfast  together,  too,  every 
morning,  and  they  had  dinner  with  me — in  fact,  I  was  a 
father  then.  I  enjoyed  my  children.  They  did  not  think  for 
themselves  so  long  as  they  lived  in  the  Rue  de  la  Jussienne ; 
they  knew  nothing  of  the  world ;  they  loved  me  with  all  their 
hearts.  Mon  Dieu !  why  could  they  not  always  be  little 
girls  ?  (Oh  !  my  head  !  this  racking  pain  in  my  head  !)  Ah  ! 
ah !  forgive  me,  children ;  this  pain  is  fearful ;  it  must  be 
agony  indeed,  for  you  have  used  me  to  endure  pain.  Mon 
Dieu  /  if  only  I  held  their  hands  in  mine,  I  should  not  feel  it 
at  all.  Do  you  think  that  they  are  on  the  way  ?  Christophe 
is  so  stupid ;  I  ought  to  have  gone  myself.  7/i?  will  see  them. 
But  you  went  to  the  ball  yesterday ;  just  tell  me  how  they 
looked.  They  did  not  know  that  I  was  ill,  did  they,  or  they 
would  not  have  been  dancing,  poor  little  things  ?  Oh !  I 
must  not  be  ill  any  longer.  They  stand  too  much  in  need  of 
me ;  their  fortunes  are  in  danger.  And  such  husbands  as 
they  are  bound  to  !     I  must  get  well  !     (Oh  !  what  pain  this 

is !  what  pain  this  is  ! ah  !  ah  !)   I  must  get  well,  you  see ; 

for  they  must  have  money,  and  I  know  how  to  set  about  mak- 
ing some.  I  will  go  to  Odessa  and  manufacture  starch  there. 
I  am  an  old  hand,  I  will  make  millions.  (Oh  !  this  is 
agony  !)  " 


280  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Goriot  was  silent  for  a  moment ;  it  seemed  to  require  his 
whole  strength  to  endure  the  pain. 

"  If  they  were  here,  I  should  not  complain,"  he  said. 
**  So  why  should  I  complain  now  ?  " 

He  seemed  to  grow  drowsy  with  exhaustion,  and  lay  quietly 
for  a  long  time.  Christophe  came  back ;  and  Rastignac, 
thinking  that  Goriot  was  asleep,  allowed  the  man  to  give  his 
story  aloud. 

"First  of  all,  sir,  I  went  to  Madame  la  Comtesse,"  he 
said ;  "  but  she  and  her  husband  were  so  busy  that  I  couldn't 
get  to  speak  to  her.  When  I  insisted  that  I  must  see  her, 
M.  de  Restaud  came  out  to  me  himself,  and  went  on  like  this 
— '  M.  Goriot  is  dying,  is  he  ?  Very  well,  it  is  the  best  thing 
he  can  do.  I  want  Mme.  de  Restaud  to  transact  some  import- 
ant business,  when  it  is  all  finished  she  can  go.'  The  gentle- 
man looked  angry,  I  thought.  I  was  just  going  away  when 
Mme.  de  Restaud  came  out  into  an  ante-chamber  through  a 
door  that  I  did  not  notice,  and  said,  *  Christophe,  tell  my 
father  that  my  husband  wants  me  to  discuss  some  matters  with 
him,  and  I  cannot  leave  the  house,  the  life  or  death  of  my 
children  is  at  stake  ;  but  as  soon  as  it  is  over,  I  will  come.' 
As  for  Madame  la  Baronne,  that  is  another  story !  I  could 
not  speak  to  her  either,  and  I  did  not  even  see  her.  Her 
waiting-woman  said,  *  Ah,  yes,  but  madame  only  came  back 
from  a  ball  at  a  quarter  to  five  this  morning;  she  is  asleep 
now,  and  if  I  wake  her  before  mid-day  she  will  be  cross.  As 
soon  as  she  rings,  I  will  go  and  tell  her  that  her  father  is 
worse.  It  will  be  time  enough  then  to  tell  her  bad  news !  * 
I  begged  and  I  prayed,  but,  there  !  it  was  no  good.  Then  I 
asked  for  M.  le  Baron,  but  he  was  out." 

"To  think  that  neither  of  his  daughters  should  come!" 
exclaimed  Rastignac.     **  I  will  write  to  them  both." 

"  Neither  of  them  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  sitting  upright  in 
bed.  "They  are  busy,  they  are  asleep,  they  will  not  come !  I 
knew  that  they  would  not.     Not  until  you  are  dying  do  you 


FATHER   G  OR  I  or.  281 

know  your  children Oh  !  my  friend,  do  not  marry ;  do 

not  have  children  !  You  give  them  life  ;  they  give  you  your 
death-blow.  You  bring  them  into  the  world,  and  they  send 
you  out  of  it.  No,  they  will  not  come.  I  have  known  that 
these  ten  years.  Sometimes  I  have  told  myself  so,  but  I  did 
not  dare  to  believe  it." 

The  tears  gathered  and  stood  without  overflowing  the  red 
sockets. 

**  Ah  !  if  I  were  rich  still,  if  I  had  kept  my  money,  if  I 
had  not  given  all  to  them,  they  would  be  with  me  now; 
they  would  fawn  on  me  and  cover  my  cheeks  with  their  kisses ! 
I  should  be  living  in  a  great  mansion ;  I  should  have  grand 
apartments  and  servants  and  a  fire  in  my  room  ;  and  they 
would  be  about  me  all  in  tears,  and  their  husbands  and  their 
children.  I  should  have  had  all  that ;  now,  I  have  nf  Iiing. 
Money  brings  everything  to  you  ;  even  your  daughters.  My 
money.  Oh!  where  is  my  money?  If  I  had  plenty  of 
money  to  leave  behind  me,  they  would  nurse  me  and  tend 
me ;  I  should  hear  their  voices,  I  should  see  their  faces.  Ah, 
God  !  who  knows  ?  They  both  of  them  have  hearts  of  stone. 
I  loved  them  too  much ;  it  was  not  likely  that  they  should 
love  me.  A  father  ought  always  to  be  rich ;  he  ought  to  keep 
his  children  well  in  hand,  like  unruly  horses.  I  have  gone 
down  on  my  knees  to  them.  Wretches  !  this  is  the  crowning 
act  that  brings  the  last  ten  years  to  a  proper  close.  If  you 
but  knew  how  much  they  made  of  me  just  after  they  were  mar- 
ried. (Oh  !  this  is  cruel  torture  !)  I  had  just  given  them  each 
eight  hundred  thousand  francs ;  they  were  bound  to  be  civil 
to  me  after  that,  and.  their  husbands  too  were  civil.  I  used 
to  go  to  their  houses ;  it  was,  '  My  kind  father  '  here,  *  My 
dear  father  '  there.  There  was  always  a  place  for  me  at  their 
tables.  I  used  to  dine  with  their  husbands  now  and  then,  and 
they  were  very  respectful  to  me.  I  was  still  worth  something, 
they  thought.  How  should  they  know  ?  I  have  not  said  any- 
thing about  my  affairs.     It  is  worth  while  to  be  civil  to  a  man 


282  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

who  has  given  his  daughters  eight  hundred  thousand  francs 
apiece ;  and  they  showed  me  every  attention  then — but  it 
was  all  for  my  money.  Grand  people  are  not  great.  I  found 
that  out  by  experience  !  I  went  to  the  theatre  with  them  in 
their  carriage  ;  I  might  stay  as  long  as  I  cared  to  stay  at  their 
evening  parties.  In  fact,  they  acknowledged  me  as  their  father; 
publicly  they  owned  that  they  were  my  daughters.  But  I  was 
always  a  shrewd  one,  you  see,  and  nothing  was  lost  upon  me. 
Everything  went  straight  to  the  mark  and  pierced  my  heart. 
I  saw  quite  well  that  it  was  all  sham  and  pretense,  but  there 
is  no  help  for  such  things  as  these.  I  felt  less  at  my 
ease  at  their  dinner  table  than  I  did  downstairs  here.  I 
had  nothing  to  say  for  myself.  So  these  grand  folks  would 
ask  in  my  son-in-law's  ear,  '  Who  may  that  gentleman  be  ?  ' 
'  The  father-in-law  with  the  dollars;  he  is  very  rich.'  *  The 
devil  he  is ! '  they  would  say,  and  look  again  at  me  with  the 
respect  due  to  my  money.  Well,  if  I  was  in  the  way  some- 
times, I  paid  dearly  for  my  mistakes.  And,  besides,  who  is 
perfect?  (My  head  is  one  sore  !)  Dear  Monsieur  Eugene,  I 
am  suffering  so  now,  that  a  man  might  die  of  the  pain ;  but 
it  is  nothing,  nothing  to  be  compared  with  the  pain  I  endured 
when  Anastasie  made  me  feel,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  had 
said  something  stupid.  She  looked  at  me,  and  that  glance 
of  hers  opened  all  my  veins.  I  used  to  want  to  know  every- 
thing, to  be  learned ;  and  one  thing  I  did  learn  thoroughly 
— I  knew  that  I  was  not  wanted  here  on  earth. 

"  The  next  day  I  went  to  Delphine  for  comfort,  and  what 
should  I  do  there  but  make  some  stupid  blunder  that  made 
her  angry  with  me.  I  was  like  one  driven  out  of  his  senses. 
For  a  week  I  did  not  know  what  to  do  ;  I  did  not  dare  to  go 
to  see  them  for  fear  they  should  reproach  me.  And  that  was 
how  they  both  turned  me  out  of  the  house. 

**  Oh,  God  !  Thou  knowest  all  the  misery  and  anguish 
that  I  have  endured ;  Thou  hast  counted  all  the  wounds  that 
have  been  dealt  to  me  in  these  years  that  have  aged  and 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  288 

changed  me  and  whitened  my  hair  and  drained  my  life  ;  why 
dost  Thou  make  me  to  suffer  so  to-day?  Have  I  not  more 
than  expiated  the  sin  of  loving  them  too  much  ?  They  them- 
selves have  been  the  instruments  of  vengeance ;  they  have 
tortured  me  for  my  sin  of  affection. 

"Ah,  well!  fathers  know  no  better;  I  loved  them  so;  I 
went  back  to  them  as  a  gambler  goes  to  the  gaming-table. 
This  love  was  my  vice,  you  see,  my  mistress — they  were  every- 
thing in  the  world  to  me.  They  were  always  wanting  some- 
thing or  other,  dresses  and  ornaments,  and  whatnot ;  their 
maids  used  to  tell  me  what  they  wanted,  and  I  used  to  give 
them  the  things  for  the  sake  of  the  welcome  that  they  bought 
for  me.  But,  at  the  same  time,  they  used  to  give  me  little 
lectures  on  my  behavior  in  society ;  they  began  about  it  at 
once.  Then  they  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  me.  That  is 
what  comes  of  having  your  children  well  brought  up.  I  could 
not  go  to  school  again  at  my  time  of  life.  (This  pain  is  fear- 
ful !  Mon  Dieu !  These  doctors  !  these  doctors  !  If  they 
would  open  my  head,  it  would  give  me  some  relief!)  Oh, 
my  daughters,  my  daughters  !  Anastasie  !  Delphine  !  If  I 
could  only  see  them  !  Send  for  the  police,  and  make  them 
come  to  me  !  Justice  is  on  my  side,  the  whole  world  is  on 
my  side,  I  have  natural  rights,  and  the  law  with  me.  I  pro- 
test !  The  country  will  go  to  ruin  if  a  father's  rights  are 
trampled  underfoot.  That  is  easy  to  see.  The  whole  world 
turns  on  fatherly  love ;  fatherly  love  is  the  foundation  of  so- 
ciety ;  it  will  crumble  into  ruin  when  children  do  not  love 
their  fathers.  Oh  !  if  I  could  only  see  them,  and  hear  them, 
no  matter  what  they  said  ;  if  I  could  simply  hear  their  voices, 
it  would  soothe  the  pain.  Delphine  !  Delphine  most  of  all. 
But  tell  them  when  they  come  not  to  look  so  coldly  at  me  as 
they  do.  Oh  !  my  friend,  my  good  Monsieur  Eugene,  you 
do  not  know  what  it  is  when  all  the  golden  light  in  a  glance 
suddenly  turns  to  a  leaden  gray.  It  has  been  one  long  winter 
here  since  the  light  in  their  eyes  shone  no  more  for  me.     I 


284  FATHER  GORIOT. 

have  had  nothing  but  disappointments  to  devour.  Disap- 
pointment has  been  my  daily  bread  ;  I  have  lived  on  humilia- 
tion and  insults.  I  have  swallowed  down  all  the  affronts  for 
which  they  sold  me  my  poor  stealthy  little  moments  of  joy ; 
for  I  love  them  so  !  Think  of  it !  a  father  hiding  himself  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  his  children  !  I  have  given  all  my  life  to 
them,  and  to-day  they  will  not  give  me  an  hour  !  I  am  hun- 
gering and  thirsting  for  them,  my  heart  is  burning  in  me,  but 
they  will  not  come  to  bring  relief  in  the  agony,  for  I  am  dying 
now,  I  feel  that  this  is  death.  Do  they  not  know  what  it 
means  to  trample  on  a  father's  corpse?  There  is  a  God  in 
heaven  who  avenges  us  fathers  whether  we  will  or  no. 

"  Oh  !  they  will  come  !  Come  to  me,  darlings,  and  give 
me  one  more  kiss ;  one  last  kiss,  the  Viaticum  for  your  father, 
who  will  pray  God  for  you  in  heaven.  I  will  tell  Him  that 
you  have  been  good  children  to  your  father,  and  plead  your 
cause  with  God  !  After  all,  it  is  not  their  fault.  I  tell  you 
they  are  innocent,  my  friend.  Tell  every  one  that  it  is  not 
their  fault,  and  no  one  need  be  distressed  on  my  account.  It 
is  all  my  own  fault,  I  taught  them  to  trample  upon  me.  I 
loved  to  have  it  so.  It  is  no  one's  affair  but  mine;  man's 
justice  and  God's  justice  have  nothing  to  do  in  it.  God 
would  be  unjust  if  He  condemned  them  for  anything  they 
may  have  done  to  me.  I  did  not  behave  to  them  properly ; 
I  was  stupid  enough  to  resign  my  rights.  I  would  have  hum- 
bled myself  in  the  dust  for  them.  What  could  you  expect  ? 
The  most  beautiful  nature,  the  noblest  soul,  would  have  been 
spoiled  by  such  indulgence.  I  am  a  wretch,  I  am  justly  pun- 
ished. I,  and  I  only,  am  to  blame  for  all  their  sins ;  I  spoiled 
them.  To-day  they  are  as  eager  for  pleasure  as  they  used  to 
be  for  sugar-plums.  When  they  were  little  girls  I  indulged 
them  in  every  whim.  They  had  a  carriage  of  their  own  when 
they  were  fifteen.  They  have  never  been  crossed.  I  am  guilty, 
and  not  they — but  I  sinned  through  love. 

**  My  heart  would  open  at  the  sound  of  their  voices.     I  can 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  285 

hear  them  ;  they  are  coming.  Yes  !  yes  !  they  are  coming. 
The  law  demands  that  they  should  be  present  at  their  father's 
death-bed ;  the  law  is  on  my  side.  It  would  only  cost  them 
the  hire  of  a  cab.  I  would  pay  that.  Write  to  them,  tell 
them  that  I  have  millions  to  leave  to  them  !  On  my  word  of 
honor,  yes.  I  am  going  to  manufacture  Italian  paste  foods 
at  Odessa.  I  understand  the  trade.  There  are  millions  to 
be  made  in  it.  Nobody  has  thought  of  the  scheme  as  yet. 
You  see,  there  will  be  no  waste,  no  damage  in  transit,  as  there 
always  is  with  wheat  and  flour.  Hey  !  hey  !  and  starch  too  ; 
there  are  millions  to  be  made  in  the  starch  trade  !  You  will 
not  be  telling  a  lie.  Millions,  tell  them  \  and  even  if  they 
really  come  because  they  covet  the  money,  I  would  rather  let 
them  deceive  me ;  and  I  shall  see  them  in  any  case.  I  want 
my  children  !  I  gave  them  life  ;  they  are  mine,  mine  !"  and 
he  sat  upright.  The  head  thus  raised,  with  its  scanty  white 
hair,  seemed  to  Eugene  like  a  threat ;  every  line  that  could 
still  speak  spoke  of  menace. 

"There,  there,  dear  father,"  said  Eugene,  "lie  down 
again ;  I  will  write  to  them  at  once.  As  soon  as  Bianchon 
comes  back  I  will  go  for  them  myself,  if  they  do  not  come 
before." 

"  If  they  do  not  come?"  repeated  the  old  man,  sobbing. 
*•■  Why,  I  shall  be  dead  before  then ;  I  shall  die  in  a  fit  of 
rage,  of  rage  !  Anger  is  getting  the  better  of  me.  I  can  see 
my  whole  life  at  this  minute.  I  have  been  cheated !  They 
do  not  love  me — they  have  never  loved  me  all  their  lives ! 
It  is  all  clear  to  me.  They  have  not  come,  and  they  will  not 
come.  The  longer  they  put  off  their  coming,  the  less  they 
are  likely  to  give  me  this  joy.  I  know  them.  They  have 
never  cared  to  guess  my  disappointments,  my  sorrows,  my 
wants  ;  they  never  cared  to  know  my  life ;  they  will  have  no 
presentiment  of  my  death ;  they  do  not  even  know  the  secret 
of  my  tenderness  for  them.  Yes,  I  see  it  all  now.  I  have 
laid  my  heart  open  so  often  that  they  take  everything  I  do 


286  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

for  them  as  a  matter  of  course.  They  might  have  asked  me 
for  the  very  eyes  out  of  my  head,  and  I  would  have  bidden 
them  to  pluck  them  out.  They  think  that  all  fathers  are  like 
theirs.  You  should  always  make  your  value  felt.  Their  own 
children  will  avenge  me.  Why,  for  their  own  sakes  they 
should  come  to  me  !  Make  them  understand  that  they  are 
laying  up  retribution  for  their  own  death-beds.     All  crimes 

are  summed  up  in  this  one Go  to  them ;  just  tell  them 

that  if  they  stay  away  it  will  be  parricide  !  There  is  enough 
laid  to  their  charge  already  without  adding  that  to  the  list. 
Cry  aloud  as  I  do  now,  '  Nasie  !  Delphine  !  here  !  Come  to 
your  father  \  the  father  who  has  been  so  kind  to  you  is  lying 
ill !  '  Not  a  sound  ;  no  one  comes  !  Then  am  I  to  die  like 
a  dog?  This  is  to  be  my  reward — I  am  forsaken  at  the  last. 
They  are  wicked,  heartless  women  ;  curses  on  them,  I  loathe 
them.  I  shall  rise  at  night  from  my  grave  to  curse  them  again ; 
for,  after  all,   my   friends,  have   I  done   wrong !     They  are 

behaving  very  badly  to  me,  eh  ? What  am  I  saying  ?    Did 

you  not  tell  me  just  now  that  Delphine  was  in  the  room? 

She  is  more  tender-hearted  than  her  sister Eugene,  you 

are  my  son,  you  know.  You  will  love  her ;  be  a  father  to 
her !  Her  sister  is  very  unhappy.  And  there  are  their  for- 
tunes !  Ah,  God  !  I  am  dying,  this  anguish  is  almost  more 
than  I  can  bear !  Cut  off  my  head ;  leave  me  nothing  but 
my  heart." 

"  Christophe  !  "  shouted  Eugene,  alarmed  by  the  way  in 
which  the  old  man  moaned,  and  by  his  cries,  "go  for  M. 
Bianchon,  and  send  a  cab  here  for  me.  I  am  going  to  fetch 
them,  dear  father;  I  will  bring  them  back  to  you." 

"  Make  them  come  !  Compel  them  to  come  !  Call  out  the 
Guard,  the  military,  anything  and  everything,  but  make  them 
come  !  "  He  looked  at  Eugene,  and  a  last  gleam  of  intelli- 
gence shone  in  his  eyes.  "Go  to  the  authorities,  to  the 
public  prosecutor,  let  them  bring  them  here ;  come  they 
shall !  " 


FATHER    GO  RIOT.  ^SSi 

"But  you  have  cursed  them." 

"Who  said  that !  "  said  the  old  man  in  dull  amazement. 
"  You  know  quite  well  that  I  love  them,  I  adore  them  !     I 

shall  be    quite  well   again  if  I  can   see  them Go    for 

them,  my  good  neighbor,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  kind-hearted ; 
I  wish  I  could  repay  you  for  your  kindness,  but  I  have  noth- 
ing to  give  you  now,  save  the  blessing  of  a  dying  man.  Ah  ! 
if  I  could  only  see  Delphine,  to  tell  her  to  pay  my  debt  to 
you.  If  the  other  cannot  come,  bring  Delphine  to  me  at 
any  rate.  Tell  her  that  unless  she  comes,  you  will  not  love 
her  any  more.  She  is  so  fond  of  you  that  she  will  come 
to  me  then.  Give  me  something  to  drink  !  There  is  a 
fire  in  my  bowels.  Press  something  against  my  forehead  ! 
If  my   daughters  would  lay    their   hands    there,   I    think   I 

should  get  better Mon  Dieu  !  who  will   recover  their 

money  for  them  when  I  am  gone  ? I  will  manufacture 

vermicelli  out  in  Odessa;  I  will  go  to  Odessa  for  their  sakes." 

"  Here  is  something  to  drink,"  said  Eugene,  supporting  the 
dying  man  on  his  left  arm,  while  he  held  a  cup  of  tisane  to 
Goriot's  lips. 

"  How  you  must  love  your  own  father  and  mother  !  "  said 
the  old  man,  and  grasped  the  student's  hands  in  both  of  his. 
It  was  a  feeble,  trembling  grasp.  "  I  am  going  to  die  ;  I  shall 
die  without  seeing  my  daughters  ;  do  you  understand  ?  To 
be  always  thirsting,  and  never  to  drink  ;  that  has  been  my 
life  for  the  last  ten  years I  have  no  daughters,  my  sons- 
in-law  killed  them.  No,  since  their  marriages  they  have  been 
dead  to  me.  Fathers  should  petition  the  Chambers  to  pass 
a  law  against  marriage.  If  you  love  your  daughters,  do  not 
let  them  marry.  A  son-in-law  is  a  rascal  who  poisons  a  girl's 
mind  and  contaminates  her  whole  nature.  Let  us  have  no 
more  marriages  !  It  robs  us  of  our  daughters ;  we  are  left  alone 
upon  our  death-beds,  and  they  are  not  with  us  then.  They 
ought  to  pass  a  law  for  dying  fathers.  This  is  awful !  It  cries 
for  vengeance  !     They  cannot  come,  because  my  sons-in-law 


288  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

forbid  them  ! Kill  them  ! Restaud  and  the  Alsa- 
tian, kill  them  both  !     They  have  murdered  me  between  them 

Death  or  my  daughters  ! Ah  !  it  is  too  late,  I  am 

dying,  and  they  are  not  here  ! Dying  without  them  ! 

Nasie  !     Fifine  !     Why  do  you  not  come  to  me  ?    Your 

papa  is  going " 


"  Dear  Father  Goriot,  calm  yourself.  There,  there,  lie 
quietly  and  rest ;  don't  worry  yourself,  don't  think." 

"  I  shall  not  see  them.     Oh  !  the  agony  of  it !  " 

"You  shall stt  them." 

"Really?"  cried  the  old  man,  still  wandering.  "Oh! 
shall  I  see  them ;  I  shall  see  them  and  hear  their  voices.  I 
shall  die  happy.  Ah  !  well,  after  all,  I  do  not  wish  to  live  ; 
I  cannot  stand  this  much  longer ;  this  pain  that  grows  worse 
and  worse.  But,  oh  !  to  see  them,  to  touch  their  dresses — 
ah  !  nothing  but  their  dresses,  that  is  very  little  ;  still,  to  feel 
something  that  belongs  to  them.  Let  me  touch  their  hair 
with  my  fingers their  hair " 

His  head  fell  back  on  the  pillow,  as  if  a  sudden  heavy 
blow  had  struck  him  down,  but  his  hands  groped  feebly  over 
the  quilt,  as  if  to  find  his  daughters'  hair. 

"My  blessing  on  them "  he  said,  making  an  effort, 

"my  blessing " 

His  voice  died  away.  Just  at  that  moment  Bianchon 
came  into  the  room. 

"  I  met  Christophe,"  he  said ;  "  he  is  gone  for  your  cab." 

Then  he  looked  at  the  patient,  and  raised  the  closed  eyelids 
with  his  fingers.  The  two  students  saw  how  dead  and  lustre- 
less the  eyes  beneath  had  grown. 

"  He  will  not  get  over  this,  I  am  sure,"  said  Biancon.  He 
felt  the  old  man's  pulse,  and  laid  a  hand  over  his  heart. 

"  The  machinery  works  still  j  more  is  the  pity,  in  his  state 
it  would  be  better  for  him  to  die." 

"  Ah  !  my  word,  it  would  !  " 

**  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?    You  are  as  pale  as  death." 


FATHER   GORIOT.  289 

*'  Dear   fellow,    the    moans    and    cries   that   I   have    just 

heard There  is  a  God  !     Ah  !  yes,  yes,  there  is  a  God, 

and  He  has  made  a  better  world  for  us,  or  this  world  of  ours 
would  be  a  nightmare.  I  could  have  cried  like  a  child  ;  but 
this  is  too  tragical,  and  I  am  sick  at  heart." 

"  We  want  a  lot  of  things,  you  know ;  and  where  is  the 
money  to  come  from  ?  " 

Rastignac  took  out  his  watch. 

"  There,  be  quick  and  pawn  it.  I  do  not  want  to  stop  on 
the  way  to  the  Rue  du  Helder  \  there  is  not  a  moment  to 
lose,  I  am  afraid,  and  I  must  wait  here  till  Christophe  comes 
back.  I  have  not  a  farthing ;  I  shall  have  to  pay  the  cabman 
when  I  get  home  again." 

Rastignac  rushed  down  the  stairs,  and  drove  off  to  the  Rue 
du  Helder.  The  awful  scene  through  which  he  had  just 
passed  quickened  his  imagination,  and  he  grew  fiercely  indig- 
nant. He  reached  Mme.  de  Restaud's  house  only  to  be  told 
by  the  servant  that  his  mistress  could  see  no  one. 

"But  I  have  brought  a  message  from  her  father,  who  is 
dying,"  Rastignac  told  the  man. 

"  The  Count  has  given  us  the  strictest  orders,  sir " 

"If  it  is  M.  de  Restaud  who  has  given  the  orders,  tell  him 
that  his  father-in-law  is  dying,  and  that  I  am  here  and  must 
speak  with  him  at  once." 

The  men  went. 

Eugene  waited  for  a  long  while.  **  Perhaps  her  father  is 
dying  at  this  moment,"  he  thought. 

Then  the  man  came  back,  and  Eugene  followed  him  to  the 
little  drawing-room.  M.  de  Restaud  was  standing  before  the 
fireless  grate,  and  did  not  ask  his  visitor  to  seat  himself 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte,"  said  Rastignac,  "  M.  Goriot,  your 
father-in-law,  is  lying  at  the  point  of  death  in  a  squalid  den 
in  the  Latin  Quarter.  He  has  not  a  penny  to  pay  for  fire- 
wood ;  he  is  expected  to  die  at  any  moment,  and  keeps  calling 

for  his  daughter " 

19 


290  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

"I  feel  very  little  affection  for  M,  Goriot,  sir,  as  you  prob- 
ably are  aware,"  the  Count  answered  coolly.  "His  char- 
acter has  been  compromised  in  connection  with  Mme.  de 
Restaud  ;  he  is  the  author  of  the  misfortunes  that  have  embit- 
tered my  life  and  troubled  my  peace  of  mind.  It  is  a  matter 
of  perfect  indifference  to  me  if  he  lives  or  dies.  Now  you 
know  my  feelings  with  regard  to  him.  Public  opinion  may 
blame  me,  but  I  care  nothing  for  public  opinion.  Just  now  I 
have  other  and  much  more  important  matters  to  think  about 
than  the  things  that  fools  and  chatterers  may  say  about  me. 
As  for  Mme.  de  Restaud,  she  cannot  leave  the  house ;  she  is 
in  no  condition  to  do  so.  And,  besides,  I  shall  not  allow  her 
to  leave  it.  Tell  her  father  that  as  soon  as  she  has  done  her 
duty  by  her  husband  and  child  she  shall  go  to  see  him.  If 
she  has  any  love  for  her  father,  she  can  be  free  to  go  to  him, 
if  she  chooses,  in  a  few  seconds  ;  it  lies  entirely  with  her " 

**  Monsieur  le  Comte,  it  is  no  business  of  mine  to  criticise 
your  conduct ;  you  can  do  as  you  please  with  your  wife,  but 
may  I  count  upon  you  keeping  your  word  with  me  ?  Well, 
then,  promise  me  to  tell  her  that  her  father  has  not  twenty- 
four  hours  to  live ;  that  he  looks  in  vain  for  her,  and  has 
cursed  her  already  as  he  lies  on  his  death-bed — that  is  all 
Task." 

"  You  can  tell  her  yourself,"  the  Count  answered,  impressed 
by  the  thrill  of  indignation  in  Eugene's  voice. 

The  Count  led  the  way  to  the  room  where  his  wife  usually 
sat.  She  was  drowned  in  tears,  and  lay  crouching  in  the 
depths  of  an  armchair,  as  if  she  were  tired  of  life  and  longed 
to  die.  It  was  piteous  to  see  her.  Before  venturing  to  look 
at  Rastignac,  she  glanced  at  her  husband  in  evident  and 
abject  terror  that  spoke  of  complete  prostration  of  body  and 
mind;  she  seemed  crushed  by  a  tyranny  both  mental  and 
physical.  The  Count  jerked  his  head  towards  her ;  she  con- 
strued this  as  a  permission  to  speak. 

**  I  heard  all  that  you  said,  monsieur.     Tell  my  father  that 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  291 

if  he  knew  all  he  would  forgive  me I  did  not  think  there 

was  such  torture  in  the  world  as  this  ;  it  is  more  than  I  can 
endure,  monsieur  !  But  I  will  not  give  way  as  long  as  I  live," 
she  said,  turning  to  her  husband.  "I  am  a  mother.  Tell 
my  father  that  I  have  never  sinned  against  him  in  spite  of 
appearances  !  "  she  cried  aloud  m  her  despair. 

Eugene  bowed  to  the  husband  and  wife  ;  he  guessed  the 
meaning  of  the  scene,  and  that  this  was  a  terrible  crisis  in  the 
Countess'  life.  M.  de  Restaud's  manner  had  told  him  that 
his  errand  was  a  fruitless  one  ;  he  saw  that  Anastasie  had  no 
longer  any  liberty  of  action.  He  came  away  amazed  and 
bewildered,  and  hurried  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen.  Delphine 
was  in  bed. 

"Poor  dear  Eugdne,  I  am  ill,"  she  said.  "I  caught  cold 
after  the  ball,  and  I  am  afraid  of  pneumonia.  I  am  waiting 
for  the  doctor  to  come." 

"If  you  were  at  death's  door,"  Eugene  broke  in,  "you 
must  be  carried  somehow  to  your  father.  He  is  calling  for 
you.  If  you  could  hear  the  faintest  of  those  cries,  you 
would  not  feel  ill  any  longer." 

"  Eugene,  I  dare  say  my  father  is  not  quite  so  ill  as  you 
say;  but  I  cannot  bear  to  do  anything  that  you  do  not 
approve,  so  I  will  do  just  as  you  wish.  As  for  him,  he  would 
die  of  grief  I  know  if  I  went  out  to  see  him  and  brought  on 
a  dangerous  illness.  Well,  I  will  go  as  soon  as  I  have  seen 
the  doctor.  Ah  !  "  she  cried  out,  "  you  are  not  wearing  your 
watch,  how  is  that  ?  " 

Eugdne  reddened. 

"  Eugdne,  Eugene !  if  you  have  sold  it  already  or  lost  it 
Oh  !  it  would  be  very  wrong  of  you  !  " 

The  student  bent  over  Delphine  and  said  in  her  ear,  "  Do 
you  want  to  know  ?  Very  well,  then,  you  shall  know.  Your 
father  has  nothing  left  to  pay  for  the  shroud  that  they  will  lay 
him  in  this  evening.  Your  watch  has  been  pawned,  for  I  had 
nothing  either." 


292  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

Delphine  sprang  out  of  bed,  ran  to  her  desk,  and  took  out 
her  purse.     She  gave  it  to  Eugene,  and  rang  the  bell,  crying — 

**  I  will  go,  I  will  go  at  once,  Eugene.  Leave  me,  I  will 
dress.  Why,  I  should  be  an  unnatural  daughter  !  Go  back  ; 
I  will  be  there  before  you.  Therese,"  she  called  to  the  wait- 
ing-woman, "  ask  M.  de  Nucingen  to  come  upstairs  at  once 
and  speak  to  me." 

Eugene  was  almost  happy  when  he  reached  the  Rue  Neuve- 
Sainte-Genevieve ;  he  was  so  glad  to  bring  the  news  to  the 
dying  man  that  one  of  his  daughters  was  coming.  He 
fumbled  in  Delphine's  purse  for  money,  so  as  to  dismiss  the 
cab  at  once  ;  and  discovered  that  the  young,  beautiful,  and 
wealthy  woman  of  fashion  had  only  seventy  francs  in  her 
private  purse.  He  climbed  the  stairs  and  found  Bianchon 
supporting  Goriot,  while  the  house  surgeon  from  the  hospital 
was  applying  moxas  to  the  patient's  back — under  the  direction 
of  the  physician,  it  was  the  last  expedient  of  science,  and  it 
was  tried  in  vain. 

"  Can  you  feel  them  ?  "  asked  the  physician.  But  Goriot 
had  caught  sight  of  Rastignac,  and  answered,  "They  are 
coming,  are  they  not  ?  " 

"  There  is  hope  yet,"  said  the  surgeon;  "he  can  speak." 

"Yes,"  said  Eugene,  "Delphine  is  coming,  and  will  be 
here  shortly." 

"Oh!  that  is  nothing!"  said  Bianchon;  "he  has  been 
talking  about  his  daughters  all  the  time.  He  calls  for  them 
as  a  man  impaled  calls  for  water,  they  say " 

"We  may  as  well  give  up,"  said  the  physician,  addressing 
the  surgeon.  "  Nothing  more  can  be  done  now;  the  case  is 
hopeless." 

Bianchon  and  the  house  surgeon  stretched  the  dying  man 
out  again  on  his  loathsome  bed. 

"  But  the  sheets  ought  to  be  changed,"  added  the  physician. 
"Even  if  there  is  no  hope  left,  something  is  due  to  human 
nature.     I  shall  come  back  again,  Bianchon,"  he  said,  turn- 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  293 

ing  to  the  medical  student.    *'  If  he  complains  again,  rub  some 
laudanum  over  the  diaphragm." 

He  went,  and  the  house  surgeon  went  with  him. 
"Come,  Eugdne,  pluck  up  heart,  my  boy,"  said  Bianchon, 
as  soon  as  they  were  alone;  "we  must  set  about  changing 
his  sheets,  and  put  him  into  a  clean  shirt.  Go  and  tell  Sylvie 
to  bring  up  some  sheets  and  come  and  help  us  to  make  the 
bed." 

Eugene  went  downstairs,  and  found  Mme.Vauquer  engaged 
in  setting  the  table  ;  Sylvie  was  helping  her.  Eugene  had 
scarcely  opened  his  mouth  before  the  widow  walked  up  to 
him  with  the  acidulous  sweet  smile  of  a  cautious  shopkeeper 
who  is  anxious  neither  to  lose  money  nor  to  offend  a  customer. 

**My  dear  Monsieur  Eugene,"  she  said,  when  he  had 
spoken,  "  you  know  quite  as  well  as  I  do  that  Father  Goriot 
has  not  a  brass  farthing  left.  If  you  give  out  clean  linen  for 
a  man  who  is  going  to  just  turn  up  his  eyes,  you  are  not  likely 
to  see  your  sheets  again,  for  one  is  sure  to  be  wanted  to  wrap 
him  in.  Now,  you  owe  me  a  hundred  and  forty-four  francs 
as  it  is,  add  forty  francs  to  that  for  the  pair  of  sheets,  and 
then  there  are  several  little  things,  besides  the  candle  that 
Sylvie  will  give  you ;  altogether,  it  will  all  mount  up  to  at  least 
two  hundred  francs,  which  is  more  than  a  poor  widow  like 
me  can  afford  to  lose.  Lord  !  now,  Monsieur  Eugene,  look 
at  it  fairly.  I  have  lost  quite  enough  in  these  five  days  since 
this  run  of  ill-luck  set  in  for  me.  I  would  rather  than  ten 
crowns  that  the  old  gentleman  had  moved  out  as  you  said. 
It  sets  the  other  lodgers  against  the  house.  It  would  not 
take  much  to  make  me  send  him  to  the  workhouse.  In  short, 
just  put  yourself  in  my  place.  I  have  to  think  of  my  estab- 
lishment first,  for  I  have  my  own  living  to  make." 

Eugene  hurried  up  to  Goriot's  room. 

"  Bianchon,"  he  cried,  "  the  money  or  the  watch  ?  " 

"There  it  is  on  the  table,  or  the  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
odd  francs  that  are  left  of  it.     I  paid  up  all  the  old  scores  out 


294  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

of  it  before  they  let  me  have  the  things.  The  pawn  ticket 
lies  there  under  the  money." 

Rastignac  hurried  downstairs. 

"Here,  madame,"  he  said  in  disgust,  "let  us  square  ac- 
counts. M.  Goriot  will  not  stay  much  longer  in  your  house, 
nor  shall  I " 

"Yes,  he  will  go  out  feet  foremost,  poor  old  gentleman," 
she  said,  counting  the  francs  with  a  half-facetious,  half-lugu- 
brious expression. 

"  Let  us  get  this  over,"  said  Rastignac. 

"  Sylvie,  look  out  some  sheets,  and  go  upstairs  to  help  the 
gentlemen." 

"You  won't  forget  Sylvie,"  said  Mme.  Vauquer  speaking 
in  Eugene's  ear ;  "  she  has  been  sitting  up  these  two  nights." 

As  soon  as  Eugene's  back  was  turned,  the  old  woman  hurried 
after  her  handmaid. 

"  Take  the  sheets  that  have  had  the  sides  turned  into  the 
middle,  number  7.  Lord  !  they  are  plenty  good  enough  for 
a  corpse,"  she  said  in  Sylvie's  ear. 

Eugene,  by  this  time,  was  part  of  the  way  upstairs,  and  did 
not  overhear  the  elderly  economist. 

"  Quick,"  said  Bianchon,  "let  us  change  his  shirt.  Hold 
him  upright." 

Eugene  went  to  the  head  of  the  bed  and  supported  the 
dying  man,  while  Bianchon  drew  off  his  shirt ;  and  then 
Goriot  made  a  movement  as  if  he  tried  to  clutch  something 
to  his  breast,  uttering  a  low  inarticulate  moaning  the  while, 
like  some  dumb  animal  in  mortal  pain. 

"Ah  yes  !  "  cried  Bianchon.  "It  is  the  little  locket  and 
the  chain  made  of  hair  that  he  wants ;  we  took  it  off  a  while 
ago  when  we  put  the  blisters  on  him  !  Poor  fellow  !  he  must 
have  it  again.     There  it  lies  on  the  chimney-piece." 

Eugdne  went  to  the  chimney-piece  and  found  a  little  plait 
of  faded  golden  hair — Mme.  Goriot's  hair,  no  doubt.  He 
read  the  name  on  the  little  round  locket,  Anastasie  on  the 


fATHER   GO  RIOT.  295 

one  side,  Delphine  on  the  other.  It  was  the  symbol  of  his 
own  heart  that  the  father  always  wore  on  his  breast.  The 
curls  of  hair  inside  the  locket  were  so  fine  and  soft  that  it 
was  plain  they  had  been  taken  from  two  childish  heads.  When 
the  old  man  felt  the  locket  once  more,  his  chest  heaved  with 
a  long  deep  sigh  of  satisfaction,  like  a  groan.  It  was  some- 
thing terrible  to  see,  for  it  seemed  as  if  the  last  quiver  of  the 
nerves  were  laid  bare  to  their  eyes,  the  last  communication 
of  sense  to  the  mysterious  point  within  whence  our  sympathies 
come  and  whither  they  go.  A  delirious  joy  lighted  up  the 
distorted  face.  The  terrific  and  vivid  force  of  the  feeling 
that  had  survived  the  power  of  thought  made  such  an  im- 
pression on  the  students  that  the  dying  man  felt  their  hot 
tears  falling  on  him,  and  gave  a  shrill  cry  of  delight. 

"Nasie!    Fifine  !  " 

"There  is  life  in  him  yet,"  said  Bianchon. 

"  What  does  he  go  on  living  for  ?  "  said  Sylvie. 

"  To  suffer,"  answered  Rastignac. 

Bianchon  made  a  sign  to  his  friend  to  follow  his  example, 
knelt  down  and  passed  his  arms  under  the  sick  man,  and  Ras- 
tignac on  the  other  side  did  the  same,  so  that  Sylvie,  standing 
in  readiness,  might  draw  the  sheet  from  beneath  and  replace 
it  with  the  one  that  she  had  brought.  Those  tears,  no  doubt, 
had  misled  Goriot ;  for  he  gathered  up  all  his  remaining 
strength  in  a  last  effort,  stretched  out  his  hands,  groped  for  the 
students'  heads,  and  as  his  fingers  caught  convulsively  at  their 
hair,  they  heard  a  faint  whisper — 

"Ah  !  my  angels  !  " 

Two  words,  two  inarticulate  murmurs,  shaped  into  words 
by  the  soul  which  fled  forth  with  them  as  they  left  his  lips. 

"Poor  dear!  "  cried  Sylvie,  melted  by  that  exclamation; 
the  expression  of  the  great  love  raised  for  the  last  time  to  a 
sublime  height  by  that  most  ghastly  and  involuntary  of  lies. 

The  father's  last  breath  must  have  been  a  sigh  of  joy,  and 
in  that  sigh  his  whole  life  was  summed  up ;  he  was  cheated 


296  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

even  at  the  last.  They  laid  Father  Goriot  upon  his  wretched 
bed  with  reverent  hands.  Thenceforward  there  was  no  ex- 
pression on  his  face,  only  the  painful  traces  of  the  struggle 
between  life  and  death  that  was  going  on  in  the  machine  ;  for 
that  kind  of  cerebral  consciousness  that  distinguishes  between 
pleasure  and  pain  in  a  human  being  was  extinguished ;  it  was 
only  a  question  of  time — and  the  mechanism  itself  would  be 
destroyed. 

"He  will  lie  like  this  for  several  hours,  and  die  so  quietly 
at  last  that  we  shall  not  know  when  he  goes ;  there  will  be 
no  rattle  in  the  throat.  The  brain  must  be  completely  suf- 
fused." 

As  he  spoke  there  was  a  footstep  on  the  staircase,  and  a 
young  woman  hastened  up,  panting  for  breath, 

**  She  has  come  too  late,"  said  Rastignac, 

But  it  was  not  Delphi ne ;  it  was  Therdse,  her  waiting- 
woman,  who  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"Monsieur  Eugene,"  she  said,  "Monsieur  and  Madame 
have  had  a  terrible  scene  about  some  money  that  Madame 
(poor  thing !)  wanted  for  her  father.  She  fainted,  and  the 
doctor  came,  and  she  had  to  be  bled,  calling  out  all  the  while, 
*  My  father  is  dying ;  I  want  to  see  papa  ! '  It  was  heart- 
breaking to  hear  her " 

"That  will  do,  Th^rese.  If  she  came  now,  it  would  be 
trouble  thrown  away.  M.  Goriot  cannot  recognize  any  one 
now." 

"Poor,  dear  gentleman,  is  he  as  bad  as  all  that?"  said 
Th^rese. 

"  You  don't  want  me  now,  I  must  go  and  look  after  my 
dinner;  it  is  half-past  four,"  remarked  Sylvie.  The  next 
instant  she  all  but  collided  with  Mme.  de  Restaud  on  the 
landing  outside. 

There  was  something  awful  and  appalling  in  the  sudden 
apparition  of  the  Countess.  She  saw  the  bed  of  death  by  the 
dim  light  of  the  single  candle,  and  her  tears  flowed  at  the 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  ^SFt 

sight  of  her  father's  passive  features,  from  which  the  life  had 
almost  ebbed.  Biaiichon  with  thoughtful  tact  then  left  the 
room. 

**  I  could  not  escape  soon  enough,"  she  said  to   Rastignac. 

The  student  bowed  sadly  in  reply,  Mme.  de  Restaud  took 
her  father's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"Forgive  me,  father!  You  used  to  say  that  my  voice 
would  call  you  back  from  the  grave;  ah  !  come  back  for. one 
moment  to  bless  your  penitent  daughter.  Do  you  hear  me  ? 
Oh  !  this  is  fearful  !  No  one  on  earth  will  ever  bless  me  hence- 
forth ;  every  one  hates  me  ;  no  one  loves  me  but  you  in  all 
the  world.  My  own  children  will  hate  me.  Take  me  with 
you,  father ;  I  will  love  you,  I  will  take  care  of  you.  He 
does  not  hear  me I  am  mad " 

She  fell  on  her  knees,  and  gazed  wildly  at  the  human  wreck 
before  her. 

"  My  cup  of  misery  is  full,"  she  said,  turning  her  eyes  upon 
Eugene.  *'  M.  de  Trailles  has  fled,  leaving  enormous  debts 
behind  him,  and  I  have  found  out  that  he  was  deceiving  me. 
My  husband  will  never  forgive  me,  and  I  have  left  my 
fortune  in  his  hands.  I  have  lost  all  my  illusions.  Alas  ! 
I  have  forsaken  the  one  heart  that  loved  me  (she  pointed 
to  her  father  as  she  spoke),  and  for  whom  ?  I  have  held 
his  kindness  cheap,  and  slighted  his  affection  ;  many  and 
many  a  time  I  have  given  him  pain,  ungrateful  wretch  that 
I  am!" 

**  He  knew  it,"  said  Rastignac. 

Just  then  Goriot's  eyelids  unclosed  ;  it  was  only  a  muscular 
contraction,  but  the  Countess'  sudden  start  of  reviving  hope 
was  no  less  dreadful  than  the  dying  eyes. 

"Is  it  possible  that  he  can  hear  me?"  cried  the  Countess. 
"No,"  she  answered  herself,  and  sat  down  beside  the  bed. 
As  Mme.  de  Restaud  seemed  to  wish  to  sit  by  her  father, 
Eugene  went  down  to  take  a  little  food.  The  boarders  were 
already  assembled. 


298  FATHER   GORIOT. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  painter,  as  he  joined  them,  "it 
seems  that  there  is  to  be  a  death-orama  upstairs." 

"Charles,  I  think  you  might  find  something  less  painful 
to  joke  about,"  said  Eugene. 

"So  we  may  not  laugh  here,"  returned  the  painter. 
"What  harm  does  it  do?  Bianchon  said  that  the  old  man 
was  quite  insensible. ' ' 

"Well,  then,  said  the  employe  from  the  Museum,  "he 
will  die  as  he  has  lived." 

"  My  father  is  dead  !  "  shrieked  the  Countess. 

The  terrible  cry  brought  Sylvie,  Rastignac,  and  Bianchon ; 
Mme.  de  Restaud  had  fainted  away.  When  she  recovered 
they  carried  her  downstairs,  and  put  her  into  the  cab  that 
stood  waiting  at  the  door.  Eugene  sent  Therese  with  her, 
and  bade  the  maid  take  the  Countess  to  Mme.  de  Nucingen. 

Bianchon  came  down  to  them. 

"Yes,  he  is  dead,"  he  said. 

"  Come,  sit  down  to  dinner,  gentlemen,"  said  Mme.  Vau- 
quer,  "or  the  soup  will  be  cold." 

The  two  students  sat  down  together. 

"What  is  the  next  thing  to  be  done?"  Eugene  asked  of 
Bianchon. 

"I  have  closed  his  eyes  and  composed  his  limbs,"  said 
Bianchon.  "  When  the  certificate  has  been  officially  regis- 
tered at  the  mayor's  office,  we  will  sew  him  in  his  winding- 
sheet  and  bury  him  somewhere.  What  do  you  think  we  ought 
to  do?" 

"  He  will  not  smell  at  his  bread  like  this  any  more,"  said 
the  painter,  mimicking  the  old  man's  little  trick. 

"Oh,  hang  it  all!"  cried  the  tutor,  "let  Father  Goriot 
drop,  and  let  us  have  something  else  for  a  change.  He  is  a 
standing  dish,  and  we  have  had  him  with  every  sauce  this 
hour  or  more.  It  is  one  of  the  privileges  of  the  good  city  of 
Paris  that  anybody  may  be  born,  or  live,  or  die  there  without 
attracting  any  attention  whatsoever.      Let  us  profit   by  the 


FATHER   GORIOT.  299 

advantages  of  civilization.  There  are  fifty  or  sixty  deaths 
every  day ;  if  you  have  a  mind  to  do  it,  you  can  sit  down 
at  any  time  and  wail  over  whole  hecatombs  of  dead  in  Paris. 
Father  Goriot  has  gone  off  the  hooks,  has  he  ?  So  much  the 
better  for  him.  If  you  venerate  his  memory,  keep  it  to  your- 
selves, and  let  the  rest  of  us  feed  in  peace." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  widow,  "  it  is  all  the  better  for 
him  that  he  is  dead.  It  looks  as  though  he  had  had  trouble 
enough,  poor  soul,  while  he  was  alive." 

And  this  was  all  the  funeral  oration  delivered  over  him 
who  had  been  for  Eugene  the  type  and  embodiment  of  fath- 
erhood. 

The  fifteen  lodgers  began  to  talk  as  usual.  When  Bianchon 
and  Eugene  had  satisfied  their  hunger,  the  rattle  of  spoons 
and  forks,  the  boisterous  conversation,  the  expressions  on  the 
faces  that  bespoke  various  degrees  of  want  of  feeling,  glut- 
tony, or  indifference,  everything  about  them  made  them  shiver 
with  loathing.  They  went  out  to  find  a  priest  to  watch  that 
night  with  the  dead.  It  was  necessary  to  measure  their  last 
pious  cares  by  the  scanty  sum  of  money  that  remained.  Be- 
fore nine  o'clock  that  evening  the  body  was  laid  out  on  the 
bare  sacking  of  the  bedstead  in  the  desolate  room  ;  a  lighted 
candle  stood  on  either  side,  and  the  priest  watched  at  the  foot. 
Rastignac  made  inquiries  of  this  latter  as  to  the  expenses  of 
the  funeral,  and  wrote  to  the  Baron  de  Nucingen  and  the 
Comte  de  Restaud,  entreating  both  gentlemen  to  authorize 
their  man  of  business  to  defray  the  charges  of  laying  their 
father-in-law  in  the  grave.  He  sent  Christophe  with  the 
letters ;  then  he  went  to  bed,  tired  out,  and  slept. 

Next  day  Bianchon  and  Rastignac  were  obliged  to  take  the 
certificate  to  the  registrar  themselves,  and  by  twelve  o'clock 
the  formalities  were  completed.  Two  hours  went  by  ;  no 
word  came  from  the  Count  nor  from  the  Baron ;  nobody  ap- 
peared to  act  for  them,  and  Rastignac  had  already  been 
obliged  to  pay  the  priest.     Sylvie  asked  ten  francs  for  sewing 


300  FATHER    GO  RIOT. 

the  old  man  in  his  winding-sheet  and  making  him  ready  for 
the  grave,  and  Eugene  and  Bianchon  calculated  that  they  had 
scarcely  sufficient  to  pay  for  the  funeral,  if  nothing  was  forth- 
coming from  the  dead  man's  family.  So  it  was  the  medical 
student  who  laid  him  in  a  pauper's  coffin,  despatched  from 
Bianchon' s  hospital,  whence  he  obtained  it  at  a  cheaper  rate. 

"  Let  us  play  those  wretches  a  trick,"  said  he.  "  Go  to 
the  cemetery,  buy  a  grave  for  five  years  at  Pere-Lachaise,  and 
arrange  with  the  church  and  the  undertaker  to  have  a  third- 
class  funeral.  If  the  daughters  and  their  husbands  decline  to 
repay  you,  you  can  carve  this  on  the  headstone — 'Here  lies 
M.  Goriot,  father  of  the  Comtesse  de  Restaud  and  the  Baronne 
de  Nuctngen,  interred  at  the  expense  of  two  students. '  ' ' 

Eugene  took  part  of  his  friend's  advice,  but  only  after  he 
had  gone  in  person  first  to  M.  and  Mme.  de  Nucingen  and 
then  to  M.  and  Mme.  de  Restaud — a  fruitless  errand.  He 
went  no  farther  than  the  doorstep  in  either  house.  The  ser- 
vants had  received  strict  orders  to  admit  no  one. 

"  Monsieur  and  madame  can  see  no  visitors.  They  have 
just  lost  their  father,  and  are  in  deep  grief  over  their  loss." 

Eugene's  Parisian  experience  told  him  that  it  was  idle  to 
press  the  point.  Something  clutched  strangely  at  his  heart 
when  he  saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  reach  Delphine. 

"Sell  some  of  your  ornaments,"  he  wrote  hastily  in  the 
porter's  room,  "  so  that  your  father  may  be  decently  laid  in 
his  last  resting-place." 

He  sealed  the  note,  and  begged  the  porter  to  give  it  to 
Therese  for  her  mistress  ;  but  the  man  took  it  to  the  Baron  de 
Nucingen,  who  flung  the  note  into  the  fire.  Eugene,  having 
finished  his  errands,  returned  to  the  lodging-house  about  three 
o'clock.  In  spite  of  himself,  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 
The  coffin,  in  its  scanty  covering  of  black  cloth,  was  stand- 
ing there  on  the  pavement  before  the  gate,  on  two  chairs.     A 


FATHER    GORIOT.  301 

withered  sprig  of  hyssop  was  soaking  in  the  holy  water  bowl 
of  silver-plated  copper ;  there  was  not  a  soul  in  the  street, 
not  a  passer-by  had  stopped  to  sprinkle  the  coffin ;  there  was 
not  even  an  attempt  at  a  black  drapery  over  the  wicket.  It 
was  a  pauper  who  lay  there ;  no  one  made  a  pretense  of 
mourning  for  him  ;  he  had  neither  friends  nor  kindred — there 
was  no  one  to  follow  him  to  the  grave. 

Bianchon's  duties  compelled  him  to  be  at  the  hospital,  but 
he  had  left  a  few  lines  for  Eugene,  telling  his  friend  about  the 
arrangements  he  had  made  for  the  burial  service.  The  house 
student's  note  told  Rastignac  that  a  mass  was  beyond  their 
means,  that  the  ordinary  office  for  the  dead  was  cheaper  and 
must  suffice,  and  that  he  had  sent  word  to  the  undertaker  by 
Christophe.  Eugene  had  scarcely  finished  reading  Bianchon's 
scrawl,  when  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  little  circular  gold 
locket  that  contained  the  hair  of  Goriot's  two  daughters  in 
Mme.  Vauquer's  hands. 

**  How  dared  you  take  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Good  Lord!  is  that  to  be  buried  along  with  him?"  re- 
torted Sylvie,     "It  is  gold." 

"Of  course  it  shall!"  Eugene  answered  indignantly; 
"  he  shall  at  any  rate  take  one  thing  that  may  represent  his 
daughters  into  the  grave  with  him." 

When  the  hearse  came,  Eugene  had  the  coffin  carried  into 
the  house  again,  unscrewed  the  lid,  and  reverently  laid  on  the 
old  man's  breast  the  token  that  recalled  the  days  when 
Delphine  and  Anastasie  were  innocent  little  maidens,  before 
they  began  "  to  think  for  themselves,"  as  he  had  moaned  out 
in  his  agony. 

Rastignac  and  Christophe  and  the  two  undertaker's  men 
were  the  only  followers  of  the  funeral.  The  Church  of  Saint- 
Etienne  du  Mont  was  only  a  little  distance  from  the  Rue 
Neuve-Sainte-Genevi^ve.  When  the  coffin  had  been  deposited 
in  a  low,  dark,  little  chapel,  the  law  student  looked  round  in 
vain  for  Goriot's  two  daughters  or  their  husbands.    Christophe 


302  FATHER   GO  RIOT. 

was  his  only  fellow-mourner  ;  Christophe,  who  appeared  to 
think  it  was  his  duty  to  attend  the  funeral  of  the  man  who 
had  put  him  in  the  way  of  such  handsome  tips.  As  they 
waited  there  in  the  chapel  for  the  two  priests,  the  chorister, 
and  the  beadle,  Rastignac  grasped  Christophe's  hand.  He 
could  not  utter  a  word  just  then. 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Eugene,"  said  Christophe,  "he  was  a 
good  and  worthy  man,  who  never  said  one  word  louder  than 
another;  he  never  did  any  one  any  harm,  and  gave  nobody 
any  trouble." 

The  two  priests,  the  chorister,  and  the  beadle  came,  and 
said  and  did  as  much  as  could  be  expected  for  seventy  francs 
in  an  age  when  religion  cannot  afford  to  say  prayers  for  nothing. 

The  ecclesiastics  chanted  a  ])salm,  the  Libera  nos  and  the 
De  profundis.  The  whole  service  lasted  about  twenty  minutes. 
There  was  but  one  mourning  coach,  which  the  priest  and  chor- 
ister agreed  to  share  with  Eugene  and  Christophe. 

"There  is  no  one  else  to  follow  us,"  remarked  the  priest, 
"  so  we  may  as  well  go  quickly,  and  so  save  time  ;  it  is  half- 
past  five." 

But  just  as  the  coffin  was  put  in  the  hearse,  two  empty  car- 
riages, with  the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Comte  de  Restaud 
and  the  Baron  de  Nucingen,  arrived  and  followed  in  the  pro- 
cession to  P6re-Lachaise.  At  six  o'clock  Goriot's  coffin  was 
lowered  into  the  grave,  his  daughters'  servants  standing  round 
the  while.  The  ecclesiastic  recited  the  short  prayer  that  the 
students  could  afford  to  pay  for,  and  then  both  priests  and 
lackeys  disappeared  at  once.  The  two  grave-diggers  flung  in 
several  spadefuls  of  earth,  and  then  stopped  and  asked  Ras- 
tignac for  their  fee.  Eugdne  felt  in  vain  in  his  pocket,  and 
was  obliged  to  borrow  five  francs  of  Christophe.  This  thing, 
so  trifling  in  itself,  gave  Rastignac  a  terrible  pang  of  distress. 
It  was  growing  dusk,  the  damp  twilight  fretted  his  nerves ;  he 
gazed  down  into  the  grave,  and  the  tears  he  shed  were  drawn 
from  him  by  the  sacred  emotion,  a  single-hearted  sorrow. 


FATHER   GO  RIOT.  803 

When  such  tears  fall  on  earth,  their  radiance  reaches  heaven. 
And  with  those  tears  that  fell  on  Father  Goriot's  grave,  Eugene 
Rastignac's  youth  ended.  He  folded  his  arms  and  gazed  at 
the  clouded  sky  ;  and  Christophe,  after  a  glance  at  him,  turned 
and  went — Rastignac  was  left  alone. 

He  went  a  few  paces  farther,  to  the  highest  point  of  the 
cemetery,  and  looked  out  over  Paris  and  the  windings  of  the 
Seine ;  the  lamps  were  beginning  to  shine  on  either  side  of 
the  river.  His  eyes  turned  almost  eagerly  to  the  space  be- 
tween the  column  of  the  Place  Vendome  and  the  cupola  of 
the  Invalides ;  there  lay  the  shining  world  that  he  had  wished 
to  reach.  He  glanced  over  that  humming  hive,  seeming  to 
draw  a  foretaste  of  its  honey,  and  said  magniloquently — 

**  Henceforth  there  is  war  between  us." 

And  by  way  of  throwing  down  the  glove  to  society,  Ras- 
tignac went  to  dine  with  Mme.  de  Nucingen. 


M.  GOBSECK. 

To  M.  le  Baron  Barchou  de  Penhoen. 

Among  all  the  pupils  of  the  Oratorian  school  at  Ven- 
dome,  we  are,  I  think,  the  only  two  who  have  after- 
wards met  in  mid-career  of  a  life  of  letters — we  who 
once  were  cultivating  Philosophy  when  by  rights  we 
should  have  been  minding  our  De  viris.  When  we 
met,  you  were  engaged  upon  your  noble  works  on 
German  philosophy,  and  I  upon  this  study.  So  fieither 
of  us  has  missed  his  vocation  ;  and  you,  when  you  see 
your  name  here,  will  feel,  no  doubt,  as  much  pleasure 
as  he  who  inscribes  his  work  to  you.  Your  old  school- 
fellow, 

1840.  De  Balzac. 

It  was  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  during  the  winter  of 
1829-30,  but  in  the  Vicomtesse  de  Grandlieu's  salon  two 
persons  stayed  on  who  did  not  belong  to  her  family  circle. 
A  young  and  good-looking  man  heard  the  clock  strike,  and 
took  his  leave.  When  the  courtyard  echoed  with  the  sound 
of  a  departing  carriage,  the  Vicomtesse  looked  up,  saw  that 
no  one  was  present  save  her  brother  and  a  friend  of  the  family 
finishing  their  game  of  piquet,  and  went  across  to  her  daugh- 
ter. The  girl,  standing  by  the  chimney-piece,  apparently 
examining  a  transparent  fire-screen,  was  listening  to  the 
sounds  from  the  courtyard  in  a  way  that  justified  certain 
maternal  fears. 

"Camille,"   said    the   Vicomtesse,    "if    you   continue  to 

behave  to  young  Comte  de  Restaud  as  you  have  done  this 

evening,   you  will  oblige  me  to  see  no  more  of  him  here. 

Listen,  child,  and  if  you  have  any  confidence  in  my  love,  let 

20  (306) 


306  M.  GOBSECK. 

me  guide  you  in  life.  At  seventeen  one  cannot  judge  of 
past  or  future,  nor  of  certain  social  considerations.  I  have 
only  one  thing  to  say  to  you.  M.  de  Restaud  has  a  mother, 
a  mother  who  would  waste  millions  of  francs ;  a  woman  of 
no  birth,  a  Mile.  Goriot ;  people  talked  a  good  deal  about 
her  at  one  time.  She  behaved  so  badly  to  her  own  father, 
that  she  certainly  does  not  deserve  to  have  so  good  a  son. 
The  young  Count  adores  her,  and  maintains  her  in  her  posi- 
tion with  dutifulness  worthy  of  all  praise,  and  he  is  extremely 
good  to  his  brother  and  sister.  But  however  admirable  his 
behavior  may  be,"  the  Vicomtesse  added  with  a  shrewd  ex- 
pression, "so  long  as  his  mother  lives,  any  family  would  take 
alarm  at  the  idea  of  intrusting  a  daughter's  fortune  and  future 
to  young  Restaud." 

"  I  overheard  a  word  now  and  again  in  your  talk  with  Mile. 
de  Grandlieu,"  cried  the  friend  of  the  family,  "and  it  made 
me  anxious  to  put  in  a  word  of  ray  own.  I  have  won,  M.  le 
Comte,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  opponent.  "  I  shall  throw 
you  over  and  go  to  your  niece's  assistance." 

"  See  what  it  is  to  have  an  attorney's  ears  !  "  exclaimed  the 
Vicomtesse.  *'  My  dear  Derville,  how  could  you  know  what 
I  was  saying  to  Camille  in  a  whisper  ?  " 

"I  knew  it  from  your  looks,"  answered  Derville,  seating 
himself  in  a  low  chair  by  the  fire. 

Camille's  uncle  went  to  her  side,  and  Mme,  de  Grandlieu 
took  up  her  position  on  a  hearth  stool  between  her  daughter 
and  Derville. 

"  The  time  has  come  for  telling  a  story,  which  should 
modify  your  judgment  as  to  Ernest  de  Restaud's  prospects." 

**  A  story  !  "  cried  Camille.    "  Do  begin  at  once,  monsieur." 

The  glance  that  Derville  gave  the  Vicomtesse  told  her  that 
this  tale  was  meant  for  her.  The  Vicomtesse  de  Grandlieu, 
be  it  said,  was  one  of  the  greatest  ladies  in  the  Faubourg 
Saint-Germain,  by  reason  of  her  fortune  and  her  ancient 
name ;  and  though  it  may  seem   improbable  that  a  Paris 


M.  GOBSECK.  307 

attorney  should  speak  so  familiarly  to  her,  or  be  so  much  at 
home  in  her  house,  the  fact  is  nevertheless  easily  explained. 

When  Mme.  de  Grandlieu  returned  to  France  with  the  royal 
family,  she  came  to  Paris,  and  at  first  lived  entirely  on  the 
pension  allowed  her  out  of  the  civil  list  by  Louis  XVIII. — 
an  intolerable  position.  The  Hotel  de  Grandlieu  had  been 
sold  by  the  Republic.  It  came  to  Derville's  knowledge  that 
there  were  flaws  in  the  title,  and  he  thought  that  it  ought  to 
return  to  the  Vicomtesse.  He  instituted  proceedings  for 
nullity  of  contract,  and  gained  the  day.  Encouraged  by 
this  success,  he  used  legal  quibbles  to  such  purpose  that  he 
compelled  some  institution  or  other  to  disgorge  the  forest  of 
Liceney.  Then  he  won  certain  lawsuits  against  the  Canal 
d'Orleans,  and  recovered  a  tolerably  large  amount  of  property, 
with  which  the  Emperor  had  endowed  various  public  institu- 
tions. So  it  fell  out  that,  thanks  to  the  young  attorney's 
skillful  management,  Mme.  de  Grandlieu's  income  reached 
the  sum  of  some  sixty  thousand  francs,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
vast  sums  returned  to  her  by  the  law  of  indemnity.  And 
Derville,  a  man  of  high  character,  well-informed,  modest,  and 
pleasant  in  company,  became  the  house-friend  of  the  family. 

By  his  conduct  of  Mme.  de  Grandlieu's  affairs  he  had  fairly 
earned  the  esteem  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  and  num- 
bered the  best  families  among  his  clients  ;  but  he  did  not  take 
advantage  of  his  popularity,  as  an  ambitious  man  might  have 
done.  The  Vicomtesse  would  have  had  him  sell  his  practice 
and  enter  the  magistracy,  in  which  career  advancement  would 
have  been  swift  and  certain  with  such  influence  at  his  dis- 
posal ;  but  he  persistently  refused  all  offers.  He  only  went 
into  society  to  keep  up  his  connections,  but  he  occasionally 
spent  an  evening  at  the  H6tel  de  Grandlieu.  It  was  a  very 
lucky  thing  for  him  that  his  talents  had  been  brought  into  the 
light  by  his  devotion  to  Mme.  de  Grandlieu,  for  his  practice 
otherwise  might  have  gone  to  pieces.  Derville  had  not  an 
attorney's  soul.     Since  Ernest  de  Restaud  had  appeared  at 


308  M.   GOBSECK. 

the  Hotel  de  Grandlieu,  and  he  had  noticed  that  Camille  felt 

attracted  to  the  young  man,  Derville  had  been  as  assiduous  in 
his  visits  as  any  dandy  of  the  Chaussee-d'Antin  newly  ad- 
mitted to  the  noble  Faubourg.  At  a  ball  only  a  few  days 
before,  when  he  happened  to  stand  near  Camille,  and  said, 
indicating  the  Count — 

"It  is  a  pity  that  yonder  youngster  has  not  two  or  three 
million  francs,  is  it  not?" 

"Is  it  a  pity?  I  do  not  think  so,"  the  girl  answered. 
"  M.  de  Restaud  has  plenty  of  ability  ;  he  is  well  educated, 
and  the  minister,  his  chief,  thinks  well  of  him.  He  will  be 
a  remarkable  man,  I  have  no  doubt.  *  Yonder  youngster  * 
will  have  as  much  money  as  he  wishes  when  he  comes  into 
power." 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  that  he  were  rich  already  ?  " 

"  Rich  already  ?  "  repeated  Camille,  flushing  red.  *'  Why, 
all  the  girls  in  the  room  would  be  quarreling  for  him,"  she 
added,  glancing  at  the  quadrilles. 

"And  then,"  retorted  the  attorney,  "Mile,  de  Grandlieu 
might  not  be  the  one  towards  whom  his  eyes  are  always 
turned  ?  That  is  what  that  red  color  means  !  You  like  him, 
do  you  not?     Come,  speak  out." 

Camille  suddenly  rose  to  go. 

"She  loves  him,"  Derville  thought. 

Since  that  evening,  Camille  had  been  unwontedly  attentive 
to  the  attorney,  who  approved  of  her  liking  for  Ernest  de 
Restaud.  Hitherto,  although  she  knew  well  that  her  family 
lay  under  great  obligations  to  Derville,  she  had  felt  respect 
rather  than  real  friendship  for  him,  their  relation  was  more  a 
matter  of  politeness  than  of  warmth  of  feeling ;  and  by  her 
manner,  and  by  the  tones  of  her  voice,  she  had  always  made 
him  sensible  of  the  distance  which  socially  lay  between  them. 
Gratitude  is  a  charge  upon  the  inheritance  which  the  second 
generation  is  apt  to  repudiate. 

"This  adventure,"  Derville  began  after  a  pause,  "brings 


M.  GOB  SEC JC.  309 

the  one  romantic  event  in  ray  life  to  my  mind.  You  are 
laughing  already,"  he  went  on;  "it  seems  so  ridiculous, 
doesn't  it,  that  an  attorney  should  speak  of  a  romance  in  his 
life  ?  But  once  I  was  five-and-twenty,  like  everybody  else, 
and  even  then  I  had  seen  some  queer  things.  I  ought  to  be- 
gin at  the  beginning  by  telling  you  about  some  one  whom  it 
is  impossible  that  you  should  have  known.  The  man  in  ques- 
tion was  a  usurer. 

"  Can  you  grasp  a  clear  notion  of  that  sallow,  wan  face  of 
his  ?  I  wish  the  Academic  would  give  me  leave  to  dub  such 
faces  the  lunar  type.  It  was  like  silver-gilt,  with  the  gilt 
rubbed  oif.  His  hair  was  iron-gray,  sleek,  and  carefully 
combed i  his  features  might  have  been  cast  in  bronze;  Tal- 
leyrand himself  was  not  more  impassive  than  this  money- 
lender. A  pair  of  little  eyes,  yellow  as  a  ferret's,  and  with 
scarce  an  eyelash  to  them,  peered  out  from  under  the  shelter- 
ing peak  of  a  shabby  old  cap,  as  if  they  feared  the  light. 
He  had  the  thin  lips  that  you  see  in  Rembrandt's  or  Metsu's 
portraits  of  alchemists  and  shrunken  old  men,  and  a  nose  so 
sharp  at  the  tip  that  it  put  you  in  mind  of  a  gimlet.  His  voice 
was  low ;  he  always  spoke  suavely ;  he  never  flew  into  a  pas- 
sion. His  age  was  a  problem ;  it  was  hard  to  say  whether  he 
had  grown  old  before  his  time,  or  whether  by  economy  of 
youth  he  had  saved  enough  to  last  him  his  life. 

"This  room,  and  everything  in  it,  from  the  green  baize  of 
his  bureau  to  the  strip  of  carpet  by  the  bed,  was  as  clean  and 
threadbare  as  the  chilly  sanctuary  of  some  elderly  spinster  who 
spends  her  days  in  rubbing  her  furniture.  In  winter-time, 
the  live  brands  of  the  fire  smoldered  all  day  in  a  bank  of 
ashes ;  there  was  never  any  flame  in  his  grate.  He  went 
through  his  day,  from  his  uprising  to  his  evening  coughing- 
fit,  with  the  regularity  of  a  pendulum,  and  in  some  sort  was 
a  clockwork  man,  wound  up  by  a  night's  slumber.  Touch  a 
wood-louse  on  an  excursion  across  your  sheet  of  paper,  and 
the  creature  shams  death  ;  and  in  something  the  same  way  my 


310  M.   GOBSECK. 

acquaintance  would  stop  short  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence, 
while  a  cart  went  by,  to  save  the  strain  to  his  voice.  Follow- 
ing the  example  of  Fontanelle,  he  was  thrifty  of  pulse-strokes, 
and  concentrated  all  human  sensibility  in  the  innermost  sanc- 
tuary of  self. 

"  His  life  flowed  soundless  as  the  sands  of  an  hour-glass.  His 
victims  sometimes  flew  into  a  rage  and  made  a  great  deal  of 
noise,  followed  by  a  great  silence  ;  so  is  it  in  a  kitchen  after 
a  fowl's  neck  has  been  wrung. 

"  Towards  evening  this  bill  of  exchange  incarnate  would 
assume  ordinary  human  shape,  and  his  metals  were  metamor- 
phosed into  a  human  heart.  When  he  was  satisfied  with  his 
day's  business,  he  would  rub  his  hands ;  his  inward  glee  would 
escape  like  smoke  through  every  rift  and  wrinkle  of  his  face. 
In  no  other  way  is  it  possible  to  give  an  idea  of  the  mute  play 
of  muscle  which  expressed  sensations  similar  to  the  soundless 
laughter  of  'Leather-Stocking.'  Indeed,  even  in  transports 
of  joy,  his  conversation  was  confined  to  monosyllables ;  he 
wore  the  same  non-committal  countenance. 

"This  was  the  neighbor  chance  found  for  me  in  the  house 
in  the  Rue  des  Gres,  where  I  used  to  live  when  as  yet  I  was 
only  a  second  clerk  finishing  my  third  year's  studies.  The 
house  is  damp  and  dark,  and  boasts  no  courtyard.  All  the 
windows  look  on  the  street ;  the  whole  dwelling,  in  claustral 
fashion,  is  divided  into  rooms  or  cells  of  equal  size,  all  open- 
ing upon  a  long  corridor  dimly  lit  with  borrowed  lights.  The 
place  must  have  been  part  of  an  old  convent  once.  So  gloomy 
was  it,  that  the  gaiety  of  eldest  sons  forsook  them  on  the  stairs 
before  they  reached  my  neighbor's  door.  He  and  his  house 
were  much  alike  ;  even  so  does  the  oyster  resemble  his  native 
rock. 

"  I  was  the  one  creature  with  whom  he  had  any  communi- 
cation, socially  speaking  ;  he  would  come  in  to  ask  for  a  light, 
to  borrow  a  book  or  a  newspaper,  and  of  an  evening  he  would 
allow  me  to  go  into  his  cell,  and  when  he  was  in  the  humor 


M.   GOBSECK.  311 

we  would  chat  together.  These  marks  of  confidence  were 
the  results  of  four  years  of  neighborhood  and  my  own  sober 
conduct.  From  sheer  lack  of  pence,  I  was  bound  to  live 
pretty  much  as  he  did.  Had  he  any  relations  or  friends  ? 
Was  he  rich  or  poor  ?  Nobody  could  give  an  answer  to  these 
questions.  I  myself  never  saw  money  in  his  room.  Doubt- 
less his  capital  was  safely  stowed  in  the  strong  rooms  of  the 
bank.  He  used  to  collect  his  bills  himself  as  they  fell  due, 
running  all  over  Paris  on  a  pair  of  shanks  as  skinny  as  a  stag's. 
On  occasion  he  could  be  a  martyr  to  prudence.  One  day, 
when  he  happened  to  have  gold  in  his  pockets,  a  double  napo- 
leon worked  its  way  somehow  or  other  out  of  his  fob  and  fell, 
and  another  lodger  following  him  up  the  stairs  picked  up  the 
coin  and  returned  it  to  its  owner. 

"'That  isn't  mine !' said  he  with  a  start  of  surprise. 
*  Mine,  indeed  !     If  I  were  rich,  should  I  live  as  I  do  ! ' 

"  He  made  his  cup  of  coffee  himself  every  morning  on  the 
cast-iron  chafing  dish  which  stood  all  day  in  the  black  angle 
of  the  grate  ;  his  dinner  came  in  from  a  cookshop ;  and  our 
old  porter's  wife  went  up  at  the  prescribed  hour  to  set  his 
room  in  order.  Finally,  a  whimsical  chance,  in  which  Sterne 
would  have  seen  predestination,  had  named  the  man  Gobseck. 
When  I  did  business  for  him  later,  I  came  to  know  that  he 
was  about  seventy-six  years  old  at  the  time  when  we  became 
acquainted.  He  was  born  about  1740,  in  some  outlying 
suburb  of  Antwerp,  of  a  Dutch  father  and  a  Jewish  mother, 
and  his  name  was  Jean-Esther  Van  Gobseck.  You  remember 
how  all  Paris  took  an  interest  in  that  murder  case,  a  woman 
named  "  The  Holland  Belle  ?  "  I  happened  to  mention  it 
to  my  old  neighbor,  and  he  answered  without  the  slightest 
symptom  of  interest  or  surprise,  '  She  is  my  grandniece.' 

"  That  was  the  only  remark  drawn  from  him  by  the  death 
of  his  sole  surviving  next  of  kin,  his  sister's  grand-daughter. 
From  reports  of  the  case  I  found  that  "  The  Holland  Belle  " 
was   in  fact  named  Sara  Van   Gobseck.     When   I  asked   by 


312  M.  GOBSECK. 

what  curious  chance  his  grandniece  came  to  bear  his  surname, 
he  smiled — 

*'  *  The  women  never  marry  in  our  family.' 

"  Singular  creature,  he  had  never  cared  to  find  out  a  single 
relative  among  four  generations  counted  on  the  female  side. 
The  thought  of  his  heirs  was  abhorrent  to  him ;  and  the  idea 
that  his  wealth  could  pass  into  other  hands  after  his  death 
simply  inconceivable. 

"He  was  a  child,  ten  years  old,  when  his  mother  shipped 
him  off  as  cabin-boy  on  a  voyage  to  the  Dutch  Straits  settle- 
ments, and  there  he  knocked  about  for  twenty  years.  The 
inscrutable  lines  on  that  sallow  forehead  kept  the  secret  of 
horrible  adventures,  sudden  panic,  unhoped-for  luck,  romantic 
cross  events,  joys  that  knew  no  limit,  hunger  endured  and 
love  trampled  underfoot,  fortunes  risked,  lost,  and  recovered, 
life  endangered  time  and  time  again,  and  saved,  it  may  be, 
by  one  of  the  rapid,  ruthless  decisions  absolved  by  necessity. 
He  had  known  Admiral  Simeuse,  M.  de  Lally,  M.  de  Ker- 
garouet,  M.  d'Estaing,  Le  Bailli  de  Suffren,  M.  de  Porten- 
duere,  Lord  Cornwallis,  Lord  Hastings,  Tippoo  Sahib's  father, 
Tippoo  Sahib  himself.  The  bully  who  served  Mahadaji  Sind- 
hia,  King  of  Delhi,  and  did  so  much  to  found  the  power 
of  the  Mahrattas,  had  had  dealings  with  M.  Gobseck.  Long 
residence  at  St.  Thomas  brought  him  in  contact  with  Victor 
Hughes  and  other  notorious  pirates.  In  his  quest  of  fortune 
he  had  left  no  stone  unturned  ;  witness  an  attempt  to  discover 
the  treasure  of  that  tribe  of  savages  so  famous  in  Buenos 
Ayres  and  its  neighborhood.  He  had  a  personal  knowledge 
of  the  events  of  the  American  War  of  Independence.  But  if 
he  spoke  of  the  Indies  or  of  America,  as  he  did  very  rarely  with 
me,  and  never  with  any  one  else,  he  seemed  to  regard  it  as  an 
indiscretion  and  to  repent  of  it  afterwards.  If  humanity  and 
sociability  are  in  some  sort  a  religion,  M.  Gobseck  might  be 
ranked  as  an  infidel ;  but  though  I  set  myself  to  study  him,  I 
must  confess,  to  my  shame,  that  his  real  nature  was  impenetrable 


M.  GOBSECK.  313 

up  to  the  very  last.  I  even  felt  doubts  at  times  as  to  his  sex. 
If  all  usurers  are  like  this  one,  I  maintain  that  they  belong  to 
the  neuter  gender. 

"  Did  he  adhere  to  his  mother's  religion?  Did  he  look  on 
Gentiles  as  his  legitimate  prey?  Had  he  turned  Roman 
Catholic,  Lutheran,  Mahometan,  Brahmin,  or  whatnot?  I 
never  knew  anything  whatsoever  about  his  religious  opinions, 
and  so  far  as  I  could  see,  he  was  indifferent  rather  than 
incredulous. 

"One  evening  I  went  in  to  see  this  man  who  had  turned 
himself  to  gold  ;  the  usurer,  whom  his  victims  (his  clients,  as 
he  styled  them)  were  wont  to  call  Daddy  Gobseck,  perhaps 
ironically,  perhaps  by  way  of  antiphrasis.  He  was  sitting  in 
his  armchair,  motionless  as  a  statue,  staring  fixedly  at  the 
mantle-shelf,  where  he  seemed  to  read  the  figures  of  his  state- 
ments. A  lamp,  with  a  pedestal  that  had  once  been  green, 
was  burning  in  the  room  ;  but  so  far  from  taking  color  from 
its  smoky  light,  his  face  seemed  to  stand  out  positively  paler 
against  the  background.  He  pointed  to  a  chair  set  for  me, 
but  not  a  word  did  he  say. 

"  *  What  thoughts  can  this  being  have  in  his  mind?'  said 
I  to  myself.  *  Does  he  know  that  a  God  exists ;  does  he 
know  there  are  such  things  as  feeling,  woman,  happiness  ?  '  I 
pitied  him  as  I  might  have  pitied  a  diseased  creature.  But,  at 
the  same  time,  I  knew  quite  well  that  while  he  had  millions 
of  francs  at  his  command,  he  possessed  the  world  no  less  in 
idea — that  world  which  he  had  explored,  ransacked,  weighed, 
appraised,  and  exploited. 

*•' '  Good-day,  Daddy  Gobseck,'  I  began,  as  I  quietly  took 
the  seat  pointed  out  to  me. 

"  He  turned  his  face  towards  me,  with  a  slight  contraction 
of  his  bushy,  black  eyebrows  ;  this  characteristic  shade  of  ex- 
pression in  him  meant  as  much  as  the  most  jubilant  smile  on 
a  southern  face. 

**  *  You  look  just  as  gloomy  as  you  did  that  day  when  the 


314  M.  GOBSECK. 

news  came  of  the  failure  of  that  bookseller  whose  sharpness 
you  admired  so  much,  though  you  were  one  of  his  victims.* 

"'One  of  his  victims?'  he  repeated,  with  a  look  of 
astonishment. 

"  '  Yes.  Did  you  not  refuse  to  accept  composition  at  the 
meeting  of  creditors  until  he  undertook  privately  to  pay  you 
your  debt  in  full ;  and  did  he  not  give  you  bills  accepted  by 
the  insolvent  firm  ;  and  then,  when  he  set  up  in  business 
again,  did  he  not  pay  you  the  dividend  upon  those  bills  of 
yours,  signed  as  they  were  by  the  bankrupt  firm  ? ' 

"  *  He  was  a  sharp  one,  but  I  had  it  out  of  him.* 

'  * '  Then  have  you  some  bills  to  protest  ?  To-day  is  the 
30th,  I  believe.' 

"  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  spoken  to  him  of  money. 
He  looked  ironically  up  at  me ;  then  in  those  bland  accents, 
not  unlike  the  husky  tones  which  the  tiro  draws  from  a  flute, 
he  answered,  *  I  am  amusing  myself.' 

**  '  So  you  amuse  yourself  now  and  again  ?  ' 

**'Do  you  imagine  that  the  only  poets  in  the  world  are 
those  who  print  their  verses  ?  '  he  asked,  with  a  pitying  look 
and  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  '  Poetry  in  that  head ! '  thought  I,  for  as  yet  I  knew 
nothing  of  his  life. 

"  *  What  life  could  be  as  glorious  as  mine?*  he  continued, 
and  his  eyes  lighted  up.  'You  are  young,  your  mental 
visions  are  colored  by  youthful  blood,  you  see  women*s  faces 
in  the  fire,  while  I  see  nothing  but  coals  in  mine.  You  have 
all  sorts  of  beliefs,  while  I  have  no  beliefs  at  all.  Keep  your 
illusions — if  you  can.  Now  I  will  show  you  life  with  the 
discount  taken  off.  Go  wherever  you  like,  or  stay  at  home 
by  the  fireside  with  your  wife,  there  always  comes  a  time  when 
you  settle  down  in  a  certain  groove,  the  groove  of  your  pref- 
erence ;  and  then  happiness  consists  in  the  exercise  of  your 
faculties  by  applying  them  to  realities.  Anything  more  in 
the  way  of  precept  is  false.     My  principles  have  been  various. 


M.  GOBSECK.  315 

among  various  men  ;  I  had  to  change  them  with  every  change 
of  latitude.  Things  that  we  admire  in  Europe  are  punishable 
in  Asia,  and  a  vice  in  Paris  becomes  a  necessity  when  you 
have  passed  the  Azores.  Tliere  are  no  such  things  as  hard- 
and-fast  rules  j  there  are  only  conventions  adapted  to  the 
climate.  Fling  a  man  headlong  into  one  social  melting-pot 
after  another,  and  convictions  and  forms  and  moral  systems 
become  so  many  meaningless  words  to  him.  The  one  thing 
that  always  remains,  the  one  sure  instinct  that  nature  has  im- 
planted in  us,  is  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  In  European 
society  you  call  this  instinct  self-interest.  If  you  had  lived  as 
long  as  I  have,  you  would  know  that  there  is  but  one  concrete 
reality  invariable  enough  to  be  worth  caring  about,  and  that 
is — Gold.  Gold  represents  every  form  of  human  power.  I 
have  traveled.  I  found  out  that  there  were  either  hills  or 
plains  everywhere:  the  plains  are  monotonous,  the  hills  a 
weariness ;  consequently,  place  may  be  left  out  of  the  question. 
As  to  manners  ;  man  is  man  all  the  world  over.  The  same 
battle  between  the  poor  and  the  rich  is  going  on  everywhere ; 
it  is  inevitable  everywhere ;  consequently,  it  is  better  to 
exploit  than  to  be  exploited.  Everywhere  you  find  the  man 
of  thews  and  sinews  who  toils,  and  the  lymphatic  man  who 
torments  himself;  and  pleasures  are  everywhere  the  same,  for 
when  all  sensations  are  exhausted,  all  that  survives  is  vanity 
— vanity  is  the  abiding  substance  of  us,  the  I  in  us.  Vanity 
is  only  to  be  satisfied  by  gold  in  floods.  Our  dreams  need 
time  and  physical  means  and  painstaking  thought  before  they 
can  be  realized.  Well,  gold  contains  all  things  in  embryo; 
gold  realizes  all  things  for  us. 

"  *  None  but  fools  and  invalids  can  find  pleasure  in  shuffling 
cards  all  evening  long  to  find  out  whether  they  shall  win  a 
few  pence  at  the  end.  None  but  driveling  idiots  could  spend 
time  in  inquiring  into  all  tliat  is  happening  around  them, 
whether  Madame  Such-an-One  slept  single  on  her  couch  or  in 
company,  whether  she  has  more  blood  than  lymph,  more  tem- 


316  M.  GOBSECK. 

perament  than  virtue.  None  but  the  dupes,  who  fon(!ly 
imagine  that  they  are  useful  to  their  like,  can  interest  them- 
selves in  laying  down  rules  for  political  guidance  amid  events 
which  neither  they  nor  any  one  else  foresee,  nor  ever  will 
foresee.  None  but  simpletons  can  delight  in  talking  about 
stage  players  and  repeating  their  sayings ;  making  the  daily 
promenade  of  a  caged  animal  over  a  rather  larger  area; 
dressing  for  others,  eating  for  others,  priding  themselves  on  a 
horse  or  a  carriage  such  as  no  neighbor  can  have  until  three 
days  later.  What  is  all  this  but  Parisian  life  summed  up  in  a 
few  phrases?  Let  us  find  a  higher  outlook  on  life  than  theirs. 
Happiness  consists  either  in  strong  emotions  which  drain  our 
vitality,  or  in  methodical  occupation  which  makes  existence 
like  a  bit  of  English  machinery,  working  with  the  regularity 
of  clockwork.  A  higher  happiness  than  either  consists  in  a 
curiosity,  styled  noble,  a  wish  to  learn  nature's  secrets,  or  to 
attempt  by  artificial  means  to  imitate  nature  to  some  extent. 
What  is  this  in  two  words  but  science  and  art,  or  passion  or 
calm  ?  Ah  !  well,  every  human  passion  wrought  up  to  its 
highest  pitch  in  the  struggle  for  existence  comes  to  parade 
itself  here  before  me — as  I  live  in  calm.  As  for  your  scientific 
curiosity,  a  kind  of  wrestling  bout  in  which  man  is  never 
uppermost,  I  replace  it  by  an  insight  into  all  the  springs  of 
action  in  man  and  woman.  To  sum  up,  the  world  is  mine 
without  effort  of  mine,  and  the  world  has  not  the  slightest 
hold  on  me.  Listen  to  this,'  he  went  on,  '  I  will  tell  you  the 
history  of  my  morning,  and  you  will  divine  my  pleasures.' 

**  He  got  up,  pushed  the  bolt  of  the  door,  drew  a  tapestry 
curtain  across  it  with  a  sharp  grating  sound  of  the  rings  on 
the  rod,  then  he  sat  down  again. 

•* '  This  morning,'  he  said,  *  I  had  only  two  amounts  to  col- 
lect ;  the  rest  of  the  bills  that  were  due  I  gave  away  instead 
of  cash  to  my  customers  yesterday.  So  much  saved,  you  see, 
for  when  I  discount  a  bill  I  always  deduct  two  francs  for  a 
hired  brougham — expenses  of  collection.     A  pretty  thing  it 


M.  GOBSECK.  317 

would  be,  would  it  not,  if  my  clients  were  to  set  me  trudging 
all  over  Paris  for  a  half-a-dozen  francs  of  discount,  when  no 
man  is  my  master,  and  I  only  pay  seven  francs  in  the  shape 
of  taxes? 

"  *  The  first  bill  for  a  thousand  francs  was  presented  by  a 
young  fellow,  a  smart  buck  with  a  spangled  waistcoat,  and  an 
eyeglass,  and  a  tilbury  and  an  English  horse,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  The  bill  bore  the  signature  of  one  of  the  prettiest 
women  in  Paris,  married  to  a  count,  a  great  landowner. 
Now,  how  came  that  countess  to  put  her  name  to  a  bill  of 
exchange,  legally  not  worth  the  paper  it  was  written  upon, 
but  practically  very  good  business  j  for  these  women,  poor 
things,  are  afraid  of  the  scandal  that  a  protested  bill  makes  in 
a  family,  and  would  give  themselves  away  in  payment  sooner 
than  fail?  I  wanted  to  find  out  what  that  bill  of  exchange 
really  represented.  Was  it  stupidity,  imprudence,  love,  or 
charity  ? 

"  '  The  second  bill,  bearing  the  signature  '*  Fanny  Mal- 
vaut,"  came  to  me  from  a  linen-draper  on  the  high  way  to 
bankruptcy.  Now,  no  creature  who  has  any  credit  with  a  bank 
comes  to  me.  The  first  step  to  my  door  means  that  a  man  is 
desperately  hard  up ;  that  the  news  of  his  failure  will  soon 
come  out ;  and,  most  of  all,  it  means  that  he  has  been  every- 
where else  first.  The  stag  is  always  at  bay  when  I  see  him, 
and  a  pack  of  creditors  are  hard  upon  his  track.  The 
Countess  lived  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,  and  my  Fanny  in  the 
Rue  Montmartre.  How  many  conjectures  I  made  as  I  set  out 
this  morning  !  If  these  two  women  were  not  able  to  pay, 
they  would  show  me  more  respect  than  they  would  show  their 
own  fathers.  What  tricks  and  grimaces  would  not  the 
Countess  try  for  a  thousand  francs  !  She  would  be  so  nice  to 
me,  she  would  talk  to  me  in  that  ingratiating  tone  peculiar  to 
endorsers  of  bills,  she  would  pour  out  a  torrent  of  coaxing 

words,  perhaps  she  would  beg  and  pray,  and  I '  (here  the 

old  man  turned  his  pale  eyes  upon  me) — *  and  I  not  to  be 


318  M.  GOBSECK. 

moved,  inexorable ! '  he  continued.  *  I  am  there  as  the 
avenger,  the  apparition  of  remorse.  So  much  for  hypotheses. 
I  reached  the  house. 

**  *  "  Madame  la  Comtesse  is  asleep,"  says  the  maid. 

«  ««<  When  can  I  see  her?" 

*"  "At  twelve  o'clock." 

** '  "  Is  Madame  la  Comtesse  ill  ?  " 

** '  "  No,  sir,  but  she  only  came  home  at  three  o'clock  this 
morning  from  a  ball." 

ti  i  II  y[y  name  is  Gobseck,  tell  her  that  I  shall  call  again  at 
twelve  o'clock,"  and  out  I  went,  leaving  traces  of  my  muddy 
boots  on  the  carpet  which  covered  the  paved  staircase.  I 
like  to  leave  mud  on  a  rich  man's  carpet ;  it  is  not  petty  spite  ; 
I  like  to  make  them  feel  a  touch  of  the  claws  of  necessity. 
In  the  Rue  Montmartre  I  thrust  open  the  old  gateway  of  a 
poor-looking  house,  and  looked  into  a  dark  courtyard  where 
the  sunlight  never  shines.  The  porter's  lodge  was  grimy,  the 
window  looked  like  the  sleeve  of  some  shabby  wadded  gown 
— greasy,  dirty,  and  full  of  holes. 

"  '  "  Mile.  Fanny  Malvaut  ?  " 

**  •  **  She  has  gone  out ;  but  if  you  have  come  about  a  bill, 
the  money  is  waiting  for  you." 

** '  "  I  will  look  in  again,"  said  I. 

"  *  As  soon  as  I  knew  that  the  porter  had  the  money  for  me, 
I  wanted  to  know  what  the  girl  was  like;  I  pictured  her  as 
pretty.  The  rest  of  the  morning  I  spent  in  looking  at  the 
prints  in  the  shop  windows  along  the  boulevard  ;  then,  just  as 
it  struck  twelve,  I  went  through  the  Countess'  ante-chamber. 

"  *  "  Madame  has  just  this  minute  rung  for  me,"  said  the 
maid  ;  "  I  don't  think  she  can  see  you  yet." 

*****  I  will  wait,"  said  I,  and  sat  down  in  an  easy-chair. 

**  *  Venetian  shutters  were  opened,  and  presently  the  maid 
came  hurrying  back. 

*****Come  in,  sir." 

'*  *  From  the  sweet  tone  of  the  girl's  voice,  I  knew  that 


M.   GOBSECK.  319 

the  mistress  could  not  be  ready  to  pay.  What  a  handsome 
woman  it  was  that  I  saw  in  another  moment !  She  had 
flung  an  India  shawl  hastily  over  her  bare  shoulders,  cov- 
ering herself  with  it  completely,  while  it  revealed  the  bare 
outlines  of  the  form  beneath.  She  wore  a  loose  gown 
trimmed  with  snowy  ruffles,  which  told  plainly  that  her 
laundress'  bills  amounted  to  something  like  two  thousand 
francs  in  the  course  of  a  year.  Her  dark  curls  escaped  from 
beneath  a  bright  India  handkerchief,  knotted  carelessly  about 
her  head  after  the  fashion  of  Creole  women.  The  bed  lay 
in  disorder  that  told  of  broken  slumber.  A  painter  would 
have  paid  money  to  stay  a  while  to  see  the  scene  that  I 
saw.  Under  the  luxurious  hanging  draperies,  the  pillow, 
crushed  into  the  depths  of  an  eider-down  quilt,  its  lace 
border  standing  out  in  contrast  against  the  background  of 
blue  silk,  bore  a  vague  impress  that  kindled  the  imagina- 
tion. A  pair  of  satin  slippers  gleamed  from  the  great  bear- 
skin rug  spread  by  the  carved  mahogany  lions  at  the  bed- 
foot,  where  she  had  flung  them  off"  in  her  weariness  after  the 
ball.  A  crumpled  gown  hung  over  a  chair,  the  sleeves  touch- 
ing the  floor ;  stockings  which  a  breath  would  have  blown 
away  were  twisted  about  the  leg  of  an  easy-chair ;  white  ribbon 
garters  straggled  over  a  settee.  A  fan  of  price,  half  unfolded, 
glittered  on  the  chimney-piece.  Drawers  stood  open  ;  flowers, 
diamonds,  gloves,  a  bouquet,  a  girdle,  were  littered  about. 
The  room  was  full  of  vague  sweet  perfume.  And — beneath 
all  the  luxury  and  disorder,  beauty  and  incongruity — I  saw 
misery  crouching  in  wait  for  her  or  for  her  adorer,  misery 
rearing  its  head,  for  the  countess  had  begun  to  feel  the  edge 
of  those  fangs.  Her  tired  face  was  an  epitome  of  the  room 
strewn  with  relics  of  past  festival.  The  scattered  gew-gaws, 
pitiable  this  morning,  when  gathered  together  and  coherent, 
had  turned  heads  the  night  before. 

** '  What  efforts  to  drink  of   the  Tantalus  cup  of  bliss  I 
could  read  in  these  traces  of  love  stricken  by  the  thunderbolt 


820  M.  GOBSECK. 

remorse — in  this  visible  presentment  of  a  life  of  luxury, 
extravagance,  and  riot.  There  were  faint  red  marks  on 
her  young  face,  signs  of  the  fineness  of  the  skin ;  but  her 
features  were  coarsened,  as  it  were,  and  the  circles  about  her 
eyes  were  unwontedly  dark.  Nature  nevertheless  was  so  vig- 
orous in  her,  that  these  traces  of  past  folly  did  not  spoil  her 
beauty.  Her  eyes  glittered.  She  looked  like  some  Herodias 
of  da  Vinci's  (I  have  dealt  in  pictures),  so  magnificently  full 
of  life  and  energy  was  she ;  there  was  nothing  starved  nor 
stinted  in  feature  or  outline  ;  she  awakened  desire  ;  it  seemed 
to  me  that  there  was  some  passion  in  her  yet  stronger  than 
love.  I  was  taken  with  her.  It  was  a  long  while  since  my 
heart  had  throbbed  ;  so  I  was  paid  then  and  there — for  I 
would  give  a  thousand  francs  for  a  sensation  that  should  bring 
me  back  memories  of  youth. 

<<  <  «f  Monsieur,"  she  said,  finding  a  chair  for  me,  **  will  you 
be  so  good  as  to  wait  ? ' ' 

"  *  *'  Until  this  time  to-morrow,  madame,"  I  said,  folding  up 
the  bill  again.  **  I  cannot  legally  protest  this  bill  any  sooner." 
And  within  myself  I  said — "  Pay  the  price  of  your  luxury,  pay 
for  your  name,  pay  for  your  ease,  pay  for  the  monopoly  which 
you  enjoy  !  The  rich  have  invented  judges  and  courts  of  law 
to  secure  their  goods,  and  the  guillotine — that  candle  in  which 
so  many  an  ignorant  moth  burns  his  wings.  But  for  you  who 
lay  in  silk,  under  silken  coverlets,  there  is  remorse,  and  grind- 
ing of  teeth  beneath  a  smile,  and  those  fantastical  lions'  jaws 
are  gaping  to  set  their  fangs  in  your  heart." 

<<  i  a  Protest  the  bill  I  Can  you  mean  it  ?  "  she  cried,  with 
her  eyes  upon  me  ;  "  could  you  have  so  little  consideration 
forme?" 

**. '  **  If  the  King  himself  owed  money  to  me,  madame,  and 
did  not  pay  it,  I  should  summons  him  even  sooner  than  any 
other  debtor." 

"  *  While  we  were  speaking,  somebody  tapped  gently  at  the 
door. 


M.  GOBSECK.  Sa 

**  *  "I  cannot  see  any  one,"  she  cried  imperiously. 

"  *  "But,  Anastasie,  I  particularly  wish  to  speak  to  you." 

**  '  *'  Not  just  now,  dear,"  she  answered  in  a  milder  tone,  but 
with  no  sign  of  relenting. 

"  '  "  What  nonsense  !  You  are  talking  to  some  one,"  said 
the  voice,  and  in  came  a  man  who  could  only  be  the  Count. 

"  'The  countess  gave  me  a  glance.  I  saw  how  it  was.  She 
was  thoroughly  in  my  power.  There  was  a  time,  when  I  was 
young,  and  might  perhaps  have  been  stupid  enough  not  to 
protest  the  bill.  At  Pondicherry,  in  1763,  I  let  a  woman  off, 
and  nicely  she  paid  me  out  afterwards.  I  deserved  it ;  what 
call  was  there  for  me  to  trust  her  ? ' 

a  « 4<  What  does  this  gentleman  want?"  asked  the  Count. 

"  '  I  could  see  that  the  Countess  was  trembling  from  head 
to  foot ;  the  white  satin  skin  of  her  throat  was  rough,  "  turned 
to  goose-flesh,"  to  use  the  familiar  expression.  As  for  me,  I 
laughed  in  myself  without  moving  a  muscle. 

"  '  "  This  gentleman  is  one  of  my  tradesmen,"  she  said. 

"  'The  Count  turned  his  back  on  me;  I  drew  the  bill  half 
out  of  my  pocket.  After  that  inexorable  movement,  she 
came  over  to  me  and  put  a  diamond  into  my  hands.  **  Take 
it,"  she  said,  "  and  be  gone." 

"'We  exchanged  values,  and  I  made  my  bow  and  went. 
The  diamond  was  quite  worth  twelve  hundred  francs  to  me. 
Out  in  the  courtyard  I  saw  a  swarm  of  flunkeys,  brushing 
their  liveries,  waxing  their  boots,  and  cleaning  sumptuous 
equipages. 

**  *  "  This  is  what  brings  these  people  to  me  !  "  said  I  to 
myself.  "  It  is  to  keep  up  this  kind  of  thing  that  they  steal 
millions  with  all  due  formalities,  and  betray  their  country. 
The  great  lord,  and  the  little  man  who  apes  the  great  lord, 
bathes  in  mud  once  for  all  to  save  himself  a  splash  or  two 
when  he  goes  afoot  through  the  streets." 

"  '  Just  then  the  great  gates  were  opened  to  admit  a  cabriolet. 
It  was  the  same  young  fellow  who  had  brought  the  bill  to  me. 
21 


322  M.   GOBSECK. 


(( (  <(  I 


Sir,"  I  said,  as  he  alighted,  "here  are  two  hundred 
francs,  which  I  beg  you  to  return  to  Mme.  la  Comtesse,  and 
have  the  goodness  to  tell  her  that  I  hold  the  pledge  which  she 
deposited  with  me  this  morning  at  her  disposition  for  a  week." 

"  '  He  took  the  two  hundred  francs,  and  an  ironical  smile 
stole  over  his  face ;  it  was  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Aha !  so  she 

has  paid  it,  has  she  ? Faith,  so  much  the  better  !  "     I 

read  the  Countess'  future  in  his  face.  That  good-looking, 
fair-haired  young  gentleman  is  a  heartless  gambler ;  he  will 
ruin  himself,  ruin  her,  ruin  her  husband,  ruin  the  children, 
eat  up  their  portions,  and  work  more  havoc  in  Parisian  salons 
than  a  whole  battery  of  howitzers  in  a  regiment. 

**  *  I  went  back  to  see  Mile.  Fanny  in  the  Rue  Montmartre, 
climbed  a  very  steep,  narrow  staircase,  and  reached  a  two- 
room  apartment  on  the  fifth  floor.  Everything  was  as  neat 
as  a  new  ducat.  I  did  not  see  a  speck  of  dust  on  the  furni- 
ture in  the  first  room,  where  Mile.  Fanny  was  sitting.  Mile. 
Fanny  herself  was  a  young  Parisian  girl,  quietly  dressed,  with 
a  delicate  fresh  face  and  a  winning  look.  The  arrangement 
of  her  neatly  brushed  chestnut  hair  in  a  double  curve  on  her 
forehead  lent  a  refined  expression  to  blue  eyes,  clear  as  crys- 
tal. The  broad  daylight  streaming  in  through  the  short  cur- 
tains against  the  window-pane  fell  with  softened  light  on  her 
girlish  face.  A  pile  of  shaped  pieces  of  linen  told  me  that 
she  was  a  sempstress.  She  looked  like  the  spirit  of  solitude. 
When  I  held  out  the  bill,  I  remarked  that  she  had  not  been 
at  home  when  I  called  in  the  morning. 

**  *  "But  the  money  was  left  with  the  porter's  wife, "said  she. 

**  *  I  pretended  not  to  understand. 

t(  i  (s  You  go  out  early,  mademoiselle,  it  seems." 

"  *  "  I  very  seldom  leave  my  room  ;  but  when  you  work  all 
night,  you  are  obliged  to  take  a  bath  sometimes." 

"  *  I  looked  at  her.  A  glance  told  me  all  about  her  life. 
Here  was  a  girl  condemned  by  misfortune  to  toil,  a  girl  who 
came  of  honest  farmer  folk,  for  she  had  still  a  freckle  or  two 


M.  GOBSECK.  *■  323 

that  told  of  country  birth.  There  was  an  indefinable  atmo- 
sphere of  goodness  about  her ;  I  felt  as  if  I  were  breathing 
sincerity  and  frank  innocence.  It  was  refreshing  to  my  lungs. 
Poor  innocent  child,  she  had  faith  in  something ;  there  was  a 
crucifix  and  a  sprig  or  two  of  green  box  above  her  poor 
little  painted  wooden  bedstead ;  I  felt  touched,  or  somewhat 
inclined  that  way.  I  felt  ready  to  offer  to  charge  no  more 
than  twelve  per  cent.,  and  so  give  something  towards  estab- 
lishing her  in  a  good  way  of  business. 

"  *  "  But  may  be  she  has  a  little  youngster  of  a  cousin,"  I 
said  to  myself,  "who  would  raise  money  on  her  signature  and 
sponge  on  the  poor  girl." 

"  '  So  I  went  away,  keeping  my  generous  impulses  well  under 
control ;  for  I  have  frequently  had  occasion  to  observe  that 
when  benevolence  does  no  harm  to  him  who  gives,  it  is  the 
ruin  of  him  who  takes.  When  you  came  in  I  was  thinking 
that  Fanny  Malvaut  would  make  a  nice  little  wife  ;  I  was 
thinking  of  the  contrast  between  her  pure,  lonely  life  and  the 
life  of  the  Countess — she  has  sunk  as  low  as  a  bill  of  exchange 
already,  she  will  sink  to  the  lowest  depths  of  degradation  be- 
fore she  has  done !  '  I  scrutinized  him  during  the  deep 
.silence  that  followed,  but  in  a  moment  he  spoke  again. 
*  Well,'  he  said,  '  do  you  think  that  it  is  nothing  to  have  this 
power  of  insight  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  the  human  heart, 
to  embrace  so  many  lives,  to  see  the  naked  truth  underlying 
it  all?  There  are  no  two  dramas  alike:  there  are  hideous 
sores,  deadly  chagrins,  love  scenes,  misery  that  soon  will  lay 
imder  the  ripples  of  the  Seine,  young  men's  joys  that  lead  to 
the  scaffold,  the  laughter  of  despair,  and  sumptuous  banquets. 
Yesterday  it  was  a  tragedy.  A  worthy  soul  of  a  father 
drowned  himself  because  he  could  not  support  his  family. 
To-morrow  it  is  a  comedy;  some  youngster  will  try  to  rehearse 
the  scene  of  M.  Dimanche,  brought  up  to  date.  You  have 
heard  people  extol  the  eloquence  of  our  latter-day  preachers ; 
now  and  again  I  have  wasted  my  time  by  going  to  hear  them; 


324  M.  COBSECK. 

they  produced  a  change  in  my  opinions,  but  in  my  conduct 
(as  somebody  said,  I  can't  recollect  his  name),  in  my  con- 
duct— never  !  Well,  well ;  these  good  priests  and  your  Mira- 
beaus  and  Vergniauds  and  the  rest  of  them  are  mere  stam- 
mering beginners  compared  with  these  orators  of  mine. 

"'Often  it  is  some  girl  in  love,  some  gray-headed  mer- 
chant on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  some  mother  with  a  son's 
wrong-doing  to  conceal,  some  starving  artist,  some  great  man 
whose  influence  is  on  the  wane,  and,  for  lack  of  money,  is 
likely  to  lose  the  fruit  of  all  his  labors — the  power  of  their 
pleading  has  made  me  shudder.  Sublime  actors  such  as  these 
play  for  me,  for  an  audience  of  one,  and  they  cannot  deceive 
me.  I  can  look  into  their  inmost  thoughts,  and  read  them  as 
God  reads  them.  Nothing  is  hidden  from  me.  Nothing  is 
refused  to  the  holder  of  the  purse-strings  to  loose  and  to 
bind.  I  am  rich  enough  to  buy  the  consciences  of  those  who 
control  the  action  of  ministers,  from  their  office  boys  to  their 
mistresses.  Is  not  that  power?  I  can  possess  the  fairest 
women,  receive  their  softest  caresses  \  is  not  that  pleasure  ? 
And  is  not  your  whole  social  economy  summed  up  in  terms 
of  power  and  pleasure  ? 

"  'There  are  ten  of  us  in  Paris,  silent,  unknown  kings,  the 
arbiters  of  your  destinies.  What  is  life  but  a  machine  set 
in  motion  by  money  ?  Know  this  for  certain — methods  are 
always  confounded  with  results ;  you  will  never  succeed  in 
separating  the  soul  from  the  senses,  spirit  from  matter.  Gold 
is  the  spiritual  basis  of  existing  society.  The  ten  of  us  are 
bound  by  the  ties  of  common  interest ;  we  meet  on  certain 
days  of  the  week  at  the  Cafe  Themis  near  the  Pont  Neuf,  and 
there,  in  conclave,  we  reveal  the  mysteries  of  finance.  No 
fortune  can  deceive  us  ;  we  are  in  possession  of  family  secrets 
in  all  directions.  We  keep  a  kind  of  "  Black  Book,"  in  which 
we  note  the  most  important  bills  issued,  drafts  on  public  credit, 
or  on  banks,  or  given  and  taken  in  the  course  of  business. 
We  are  the  Casuists  of  the  Paris  Bourse,  a  kind  of  Inquisition 


M.  GOBSECK.  325 

weighing  and  analyzing  the  most  insignificant  actions  of  every 
man  of  any  fortune,  and  our  forecasts  are  infallible.  One  of 
us  looks  out  over  the  judicial  world,  one  over  the  financial, 
another  surveys  the  administrative,  and  yet  another  the  busi- 
ness world.  I  myself  keep  an  eye  on  eldest  sons,  artists,  peo- 
ple in  the  great  world,  and  gamblers — on  the  most  sensational 
side  of  Paris.  Every  one  who  comes  to  us  lets  us  into  his 
neighbor's  secrets.  Thwarted  passion  and  mortified  vanity 
are  great  babblers.  Vice  and  disappointment  and  vindictive- 
ness  are  the  best  of  all  detectives.  My  colleagues,  like  my- 
self, have  enjoyed  all  things,  are  sated  with  all  things,  and 
have  reached  the  point  when  power  and  money  are  loved  for 
their  own  sake. 

**  *  Here,'  he  said,  indicating  his  bare,  chilly  room,  'here 
the  most  high-mettled  gallant,  who  chafes  at  a  word  and 
draws  sword  for  a  syllable  elsewhere,  will  entreat  with  clasped 
hands.  There  is  no  city  merchant  so  proud,  no  woman  so 
vain  of  her  beauty,  no  soldier  of  so  bold  a  spirit,  but  that 
they  entreat  me  here,  one  and  all,  with  tears  of  rage  or  an- 
guish in  their  eyes.  Here  they  kneel — the  famous  artist,  and 
the  man  of  letters,  whose  name  will  go  down  to  posterity. 
Here,  in  short '  (he  lifted  his  hand  to  his  forehead),  *  all  the 
inheritances  and  all  the  concerns  of  all  Paris  are  weighed  in 
the  balance.  Are  you  still  of  the  opinion  that  there  are  no 
delights  behind  the  blank  mask  which  so  often  has  amazed 
you  by  its  impassiveness  ? '  he  asked,  stretching  out  that 
livid  face  which  reeked  of  money. 

**  I  went  back  to  my  room,  feeling  stupefied.  The  little, 
wizened,  old  man  had  grown  great.  He  had  been  metamor- 
phosed under  my  eyes  into  a  strange  visionary  symbol ;  he 
had  come  to  be  the  power  of  gold  personified.  I  shrank, 
shuddering,  from  life  and  my  kind. 

*' *  Is  it  really  so?'  I  thought;  'must  everything  be  re- 
solved into  gold  ?  * 

'*  I  remember  that  it  was  long  before  I  slept  that  night.     I 


326  M.  GOBSECK. 

saw  heaps  of  gold  all  about  me.  My  thoughts  were  full  of 
the  lovely  Countess ;  I  confess,  to  my  shame,  that  the  vision 
completely  eclipsed  another  quiet,  innocent  figure,  the  figure 
of  the  woman  who  had  entered  upon  a  life  of  toil  and  ob- 
scurity; but  on  the  morrow,  through  the  clouds  of  slumber, 
Fanny's  sweet  face  rose  before  me  in  all  its  beauty,  and  I 
thought  of  nothing  else." 

*•  Will  you  take  a  glass  of  eau  sucrie?*^  asked  the  Vicom- 

tesse,  interrupting  Derville. 

"I  should  be  glad  of  it." 

"  But  I  can  see  nothing  in  this  that  can  touch  our  concerns," 
said  Mme.  de  Grandlieu,  as  she  rang  the  bell. 

"  Sardanapalus !  "  cried  Derville,  flinging  out  his  favorite 
invocation.  "  Mademoiselle  Camille  will  be  wide  awake  in  a 
moment  if  I  say  that  her  happiness  depended  not  so  long  ago 
upon  Daddy  Gobseck ;  but  as  the  old  gentleman  died  at  the 
age  of  ninety,  M.  de  Restaud  will  soon  be  in  possession  of  a 
handsome  fortune.  This  requires  some  explanation.  As  for 
Fanny  Malvaut,  you  know  her ;  she  is  my  wife." 

"  Poor  fellow,  he  would  admit  that,  with  his  usual  frank- 
ness, with  a  score  of  people  to  hear  him !  "  said  the  Vicom- 
tesse. 

**I  would  proclaim  it  to  the  universe,"  said  the  attorney. 

**  Go  on,  drink  your  glass,  my  poor  Derville.  You  will 
never  be  anything  but  the  happiest  and  the  best  of  men." 

"I  left  you  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,"  remarked  the  uncle, 
raising  his  face  after  a  gentle  doze.  "  You  had  gone  to  see  a 
countess;  what  have  you  done  with  her?" 

"  A  few  days  after  my  conversation  with  the  old  Dutch- 
man," Derville  continued,  "  I  sent  in  my  thesis,  and  became 
first  a  licentiate  in  law,  and  afterwards  an  advocate.  The  old 
miser's  opinion  of  me  went  up  considerably.  He  consulted 
me  (gratuitously)  on  all  the  ticklish  bits  of  business  which  he 


M.  GOSBECK.  327 

undertook  when  he  had  made  quite  sure  how  he  stood,  busi- 
ness which  would  have  seemed  unsafe  to  any  ordinary  prac- 
titioner. This  man,  over  whom  no  one  appeared  to  have  the 
slightest  influence,  listened  to  my  advice  with  something  like 
respect.  It  is  true  that  he  always  found  that  it  turned  out 
very  well. 

"At  length  I  became  head-clerk  in  the  office  where  I  had 
worked  for  three  years,  and  then  I  left  the  Rue  des  Grds  for 
rooms  in  my  employer's  house.  I  had  my  board  and  lodging 
and  a  hundred  and  fifty  francs  per  month.  It  was  a  great 
day  for  me ! 

'*  When  I  went  to  bid  the  usurer  good-by,  he  showed  no 
sign  of  feeling,  he  was  neither  cordial  nor  sorry  to  lose  me, 
he  did  not  ask  me  to  come  to  see  him,  and  only  gave  me  one 
of  those  glances  which  seemed  in  some  way  to  reveal  a  power 
of  second-sight. 

"  By  the  end  of  the  week  my  old  neighbor  came  to  see  me 
with  a  tolerably  thorny  bit  of  business,  an  expropriation,  and 
he  continued  to  ask  my  advice  with  as  much  freedom  as  if  he 
paid  for  it. 

*'  My  principal  was  a  man  of  pleasure  and  expensive  tastes ; 
before  the  second  year  (1818-1819)  was  out  he  had  gotten  him- 
self into  difficulties,  and  was  obliged  to  sell  his  practice.  A 
professional  connection  in  those  days  did  not  fetch  the  present 
exorbitant  prices,  and  my  principal  asked  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs.  Now  an  active  man,  of  competent  knowl- 
edge and  intelligence,  might  hope  to  pay  off  the  capital  in  ten 
years,  paying  interest  and  living  respectably  in  the  meantime — 
if  he  could  command  confidence.  But  I  was  the  seventh 
child  of  a  small  tradesman  at  Noyon,  I  had  not  a  sou  to  my 
name,  nor  personal  knowledge  of  any  capitalist  but  Daddy 
Gobseck.  An  ambitious  idea,  and  an  indefinable  glimmer  of 
hope,  put  heart  into  me.  To  Gobseck  I  betook  myself,  and 
slowly  one  evening  I  made  my  way  to  the  Rue  des  Gres.  My 
heart  thumped  heavily  as  I  knocked  at  his  door  in  the  gloomy 


328  M.   GOBSECK. 

house.  I  recollected  all  the  things  that  he  used  to  tell  me, 
at  a  time  when  I  myself  was  very  far  from  suspecting  the  vio- 
lence of  the  anguish  awaiting  those  who  crossed  his  threshold. 
Now  it  was  I  who  was  about  to  beg  and  pray  like  so  many 
others. 

"'Well,  no,  not  that,^  I  said  to  myself;  'an  honest  man 
must  keep  his  self-respect  wherever  he  goes.  Success  is  not 
worth  cringing  for ;  let  us  show  him  a  front  as  decided  as  his 
own.' 

**  Daddy  Gobseck  had  taken  my  room  since  I  left  the  house, 
so  as  to  have  no  neighbor ;  he  had  made  a  little  grated  win- 
dow too  in  his  door  since  then,  and  did  not  open  until  he  had 
taken  a  look  at  me  and  saw  who  I  was. 

"  *  Well,'  said  he,  in  his  thin,  flute  notes,  *  so  your  prin- 
cipal is  selling  his  practice.' 

**  *  How  did  you  know  that  ?  '  said  I ;  *  he  has  not  spoken 
of  it  as  yet  except  to  me.' 

**  The  old  man's  lips  were  drawn  in  puckers,  like  a  curtain, 
to  either  corner  of  his  mouth,  as  a  soundless  smile  bore  a  hard 
glance  company. 

**  *  Nothing  else  would  have  brought  you  here,'  he  said 
drily,  after  a  pause,  which  I  spent  in  confusion. 

"  '  Listen  to  me,  M.  Gobseck,'  I  began,  with  such  serenity 
as  I  could  assume  before  the  old  man,  who  gazed  at  me  with 
steady  eyes.  There  was  a  clear  light  burning  in  them  that 
disconcerted  me. 

**He  made  a  gesture  as  if  to  bid  me  *  Go  on.'  '  I  know 
that  it  is  not  easy  to  work  on  your  feelings,  so  I  will  not  waste 
my  eloquence  on  the  attempt  to  put  my  position  before  you — 
I  am  a  penniless  clerk,  with  no  one  to  look  to  but  you,  and  no 
heart  in  the  world  but  yours  can  form  a  clear  idea  of  my 
probable  future.  Let  us  leave  hearts  out  of  the  question. 
Business  is  business,  and  business  is  not  carried  on  with  senti- 
mentality like  romances.  Now  to  the  facts.  My  principal's 
practice  is  worth  in  his  hands  about  twenty  thousand  francs 


M.  GOBSECK.  329 

per  annum ;  in  my  hands,  I  think  it  would  bring  in  forty 
thousand.  He  is  willing  to  sell  it  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  francs.  And  here,'  I  said,  striking  my  forehead, 
'I  feel  that  if  you  would  lend  me  the  purchase-money,  I  could 
clear  it  off  in  ten  years'  time.' 

*' '  Come,  that  is  plain  speaking,'  said  Daddy  Gobseck,  and 
he  held  out  his  hand  and  grasped  mine.  *  Nobody  since  I 
have  been  in  business  has  stated  the  motives  of  his  visit  more 
clearly.  Guarantees  ?  *  asked  he,  scanning  me  from  head  to 
foot.  '  None  to  give,'  he  added  after  a  pause.  '  How  old 
are  you  ?  ' 

"  'Twenty-five  in  ten  days'  time,'  said  I,  'or  I  could  not 
open  tlie  matter.' 

"  '  Precisely.* 

"'Well?' 

"  '  It  is  possible.* 

"  '  My  word,  we  must  be  quick  about  it,  or  I  shall  have 
some  one  buying  over  my  head.' 

"  '  Bring  your  certificate  of  birth  round  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  we  will  talk.  I  will  think  it  over  in  the  meantime,* 
he  replied. 

"  Next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  I  stood  in  the  old  man's 
room.  He  took  the  document,  put  on  his  spectacles,  coughed, 
spat,  wrapped  himself  up  in  his  black  greatcoat,  and  read  the 
whole  certificate  through  from  beginning  to  end.  Then  he 
turned  it  over  and  over,  looked  at  me,  coughed  again,  fidgeted 
about  in  his  chair,  and  said,  '  We  will  try  to  arrange  this  bit 
of  business.' 

"I  trembled. 

"  '  I  make  fifty  per  cent,  on  my  capital,'  he  continued, 
'sometimes  I  make  a  hundred,  two  hundred,  five  hundred 
per  cent.' 

"  I  turned  pale  at  the  words. 

"  '  But  as  we  are  acquaintances,  I  shall  be  satisfied  to  take 
tv/elre  and  a  half  per  cent,  per  ' — (he  hesitated) — *  well,  yes, 


330  M.  GOBSECK. 

from  you  I  would  be  content  to  take  thirteen  per  cent,  per 
annum.     Will  that  suit  you  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,'  I  answered. 

"/  But  if  it  is  too  much,  stick  up  for  yourself,  Grotius ! ' 
(a  name  he  jokingly  gave  me).  '  When  I  ask  you  for  thir- 
teen per  cent. ,  it  is  all  in  the  way  of  business  ;  look  into  it, 
see  if  you  can  pay  it ;  I  don't  like  a  man  to  agree  too  easily. 
Is  it  too  much  ? ' 

"  *  No,'  said  I,  '  I  will  make  up  for  it  by  working  a  little 
harder.' 

'  *  '  Gad  !  your  clients  will  pay  for  it ! '  said  he,  looking  at 
me  wickedly  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes. 

"  'No,  by  all  the  devils  in  hell ! '  cried  I,  'it  shall  be  I 
who  will  pay.  I  would  sooner  cut  my  hand  off  than  flay 
people.' 

** '  Good-night,'  said  Daddy  Gobseck. 

<<  <  Why,  fees  are  all  according  to  scale/  I  added. 

*'  *  Not  for  compromises  and  settlements  out  of  court,  and 
cases  where  litigants  come  to  terms,'  said  he.  *  You  can  send 
in  a  bill  for  thousands  of  francs,  six  thousand  even  at  a  swoop 
(it  depends  on  the  importance  of  the  case),  for  conferences 
with  So-and-so,  and  expenses,  and  drafts,  and  memorials,  and 
your  jargon.  A  man  must  learn  to  look  out  for  business  of 
this  kind.  I  will  recommend  you  as  a  most  competent,  clever 
attorney.  I  will  send  you  such  a  lot  of  work  of  this  sort 
that  your  colleagues  will  be  fit  to  burst  with  envy.  Werbrust, 
Palma,  and  Gigonnet,  my  cronies,  shall  hand  over  their  ex- 
propriations to  you  ;  they  have  plenty  of  them,  the  Lord 
knows  !  So  you  will  have  two  practices — the  one  you  are 
buying,  and  the  other  I  will  build  up  for  you.  You  ought 
almost  to  pay  me  fifteen  per  cent,  on  my  loan.* 

"  *  So  be  it,  but  no  more,*  said  I,  with  the  firmness  which 
means  that  a  man  is  determined  not  to  concede  another 
point. 

"  Daddy  Gobseck's  face  relaxed ;  he  looked  pleased  with  me. 


M.  GOBSECK.  381 

**  *  I  shall  pay  the  money  over  to  your  principal  myself,* 
said  he,  *  so  as  to  establish  a  lien  on  the  purchase  and  caution- 
money.' 

'* '  Oh,  anything  you  like  in  the  way  of  guarantees.' 

**  'And  besides  that,  you  will  give  me  bills  for  the  amount 
made  payable  to  a  third  party  (name  left  blank),  fifteen  bills 
of  ten  thousand  francs  each.' 

"  '  Well,  so  long  as  it  is  acknowledged  in  writing  that  this 
is  a  double ' 

"  •  No  !  '  Gobseck  broke  in  upon  me.  *  No  !  Why  should 
I  trust  you  any  more  than  you  trust  me  ?  * 

"  I  kept  silence. 

**  'And  furthermore,'  he  continued,  with  a  sort  of  good- 
humor,  *  you  will  give  me  your  advice  without  charging  fees 
so  long  as  I  live,  will  you  not  ? ' 

"  '  So  be  it ;  so  long  as  there  is  no  outlay.' 

"  *  Precisely,'  said  he.  *  Ah,  by-the-by,  you  will  allow  me 
to  go  to  see  you  ?  '  (Plainly  the  old  man  found  it  not  so 
easy  to  assume  the  air  of  good-humor.) 

"  *  I  shall  always  be  glad.* 

"  *  Ah  !  yes,  but  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  arrange  of  a 
morning.  You  will  have  your  affairs  to  attend  to,  and  I  have 
mine.' 

"  'Then  come  in  the  evening.' 

*'  *  Oh,  no  ! '  he  answered  briskly,  *  you  ought  to  go  into 
society  and  see  your  clients,  and  I  myself  have  my  friends  at 
my  caf6.' 

"  '  His  friends  ! '  thought  I  to  myself.  '  Very  well,'  said  I, 
*  why  not  come  at  dinner-time?  ' 

"  'That  is  the  time,'  said  Gobseck,  '  after  'Change,  at  five 
o'clock.  Good,  you  will  see  me  Wednesdays  and  Saturdays. 
We  will  talk  over  business  like  a  pair  of  friends.  Aha  !  I  am 
gay,  sometimes.  Just  give  me  the  wing  of  a  partridge  and  a 
glass  of  champagne,  and  we  will  have  our  chat  together.  I 
know  a  great  many  things  that  can  be  told  now  at  this  dis- 


382  M.  GOBSECK. 

tance  of  time ;  I  will  teach  you  to  know  men,  and  what  is 
more,  women  ? ' 

"  *  Oh  !  a  partridge  and  a  glass  of  champagne  if  you  like.' 

"  *  Don't  do  anything  foolish,  or  I  shall  lose  my  faith  in 
you.  And  don't  set  up  housekeeping  in  a  grand  way.  Just 
one  old  general  servant.  I  will  come  and  see  that  you  keep 
your  health.  I  have  capital  invested  in  your  head,  he  !  he  ! 
so  I  am  bound  to  look  after  you.  There,  come  round  in  the 
evening,  and  bring  your  principal  with  you  !  ' 

"  *  Would  you  mind  telling  me,  if  there  is  no  harm  in 
asking,  what  was  the  good  of  my  birth  certificate  in  this 
•business?  '  I  asked,  when  the  little  old  man  and  I  stood  on 
the  doorstep. 

**  Jean-Esther  Van  Gobseck  shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled 
maliciously,  and  said,  '  What  blockheads  youngsters  are ! 
Learn,  master  attorney  (for  learn  you  must,  if  you  don't  mean 
to  be  taken  in),  that  integrity  and  brains  in  a  man  under 
thirty  are  commodities  which  can  be  mortgaged.  After  that 
age  there  is  no  counting  on  a  man.' 

**  And  with  that  he  shut  the  door. 

"  Three  months  later  I  was  an  attorney.  Before  very  long, 
madame,  it  was  my  good-fortune  to  undertake  the  suit  for  the 
recovery  of  your  estates.  I  won  the  day,  and  my  name  became 
known.  In  spite  of  the  exorbitant  rate  of  interest,  I  paid  off 
Gobseck  in  less  than  five  years.  I  married  Fanny  Malvaut, 
whom  I  loved  with  all  my  heart.  There  was  a  parallel  between 
her  life  and  mine,  between  our  hard  work  and  our  luck,  which 
increased  the  strength  of  feeling  on  either  side.  One  of  her 
uncles,  a  well-to-do  farmer,  died  and  left  her  seventy  thousand 
francs,  which  helped  to  clear  off  the  loan.  From  that  day  my 
life  has  been  nothing  but  happiness  and  prosperity.  Nothing 
is  more  utterly  uninteresting  than  a  happy  man,  so  let  us  say 
no  more  on  that  head,  and  return  to  the  rest  of  the  characters. 

"  About  a  year  after  the  purchase  of  the  practice,  I  was 


M.  GOBSECK.  833 

dragged  into  a  bachelor  breakfast-party  given  by  one  of  our 
number  who  had  lost  a  bet  to  a  young  man  greatly  in  vogue 
in  the  fashionable  world.  M.  de  Trailles,  the  flower  of  the 
dandyism  of  that  day,  enjoyed  a  prodigious  reputation." 

"But  he  is  still  enjoying  it,"  put  in  the  Comte  de  Born. 
"  No  one  wears  his  clothes  with  a  finer  air,  nor  drives  a  tandem 
with  a  better  grace.  It  is  Maxime's  gift ;  he  can  gamble,  eat, 
and  drink  more  gracefully  than  any  man  in  the  world.  He 
is  a  judge  of  horses,  hats,  and  pictures.  All  the  women  lose 
their  heads  over  him.  He  always  spends  something  like  a 
hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  and  no  creature  can  discover 
that  he  has  an  acre  of  land  or  a  single  dividend  warrant.  The 
typical  knight-errant  of  our  salons,  our  boudoirs,  our  boule- 
vards, an  amphibian  half-way  between  a  man  and  a  woman — 
Maxime  de  Trailles  is  a  singular  being,  fit  for  anything,  and 
good  for  nothing,  quite  as  capable  of  perpetrating  a  benefit  as 
of  planning  a  crime  ;  sometimes  base,  sometimes  noble,  more 
often  bespattered  with  mire  than  besprinkled  with  blood, 
knowing  more  of  anxiety  than  of  remorse,  more  concerned 
with  his  digestion  than  with  any  mental  process,  shamming 
passion,  feeling  nothing.  Maxime  de  Trailles  is  a  brilliant 
link  between  the  hulks  and  the  best  society  ;  he  belongs  to  the 
eminently  intelligent  class  from  which  a  Mirabeau,  or  a  Pitt, 
or  a  Richelieu  springs  at  times,  though  it  is  more  wont  to 
produce  Counts  of  Horn,  Fouquier-Tinvilles,  and  Coignards." 

"Well,"  pursued  Derville,  when  he  had  heard  the  Vicom- 
tesse's  brother  to  the  end,  *'  I  had  heard  a  good  deal  about 
this  individual  from  poor  Father  Goriot,  a  client  of  mine  ;  and 
I  had  already  been  at  some  pains  to  avoid  the  dangerous 
honor  of  his  acquaintance,  for  I  came  across  him  sometimes 
in  society.  Still,  my  chum  was  so  pressing  about  this  break- 
fast party  of  his  that  I  could  not  well  get  out  of  it,  unless  I 
wished  to  earn  a  name  for  squeamishness.  Madame,  you  could 
hardly  imagine  what  a  bachelor's  breakfast-party  is  like.  It 
means  superb  display  and  a  studied  refinement  seldom  seen ; 


334  M.  GOBSECK. 

the  luxury  of  a  raiser  when  vanity  leads  him  to  be  sumptuous 
for  a  day. 

'*  You  are  surprised  as  you  enter  the  room  at  the  neatness 
of  the  table,  dazzling  by  reason  of  its  silver  and  crystal  and 
linen  damask.  Life  is  here  in  full  bloom  ;  the  young  fellows 
are  graceful  to  behold ;  they  smile  and  talk  in  low,  demure 
voices  like  so  many  brides ;  everything  about  them  looks 
girlish.  Two  hours  later  you  might  take  the  room  for  a 
battlefield  after  the  fight.  Broken  glasses,  serviettes  crumpled 
and  torn  to  rags  lie  strewn  about  among  the  nauseous-looking 
remnants  of  food  on  the  dishes.  There  is  an  uproar  that 
stuns  you,  jesting  toasts,  a  fire  of  witticisms  and  bad  jokes ; 
faces  are  empurpled,  eyes  inflamed  and  expressionless ;  unin- 
tentional confidences  tell  you  the  whole  truth.  Bottles  are 
smashed,  and  songs  trolled  out  in  the  height  of  a  diabolical 
racket ;  men  call  each  other  out,  hang  on  each  other's  necks, 
or  fall  to  fisticuffs ;  the  room  is  full  of  a  horrid,  close  scent 
made  up  of  a  hundred  odors,  and  noise  enough  for  a  hundred 
voices.  No  one  has  any  notion  of  what  he  is  eating  or  drink- 
ing or  saying.  Some  are  depressed,  others  babble  ;  one  will 
turn  monomaniac,  repeating  the  same  word  over  and  over 
again  like  a  bell  set  jangling  ;  another  tries  to  keep  the  tumult 
within  bounds ;  the  steadiest  will  propose  an  orgie.  If  any 
one  in  possession  of  his  faculties  should  come  in,  he  would 
think  that  he  had  interrupted  a  Bacchanalian  rite. 

"  It  was  in  the  thick  of  such  a  chaos  that  M.  de  Trailles 
tried  to  insinuate  himself  into  my  good  graces.  My  head  was 
fairly  clear,  I  was  upon  my  guard.  As  for  him,  though  he 
pretended  to  be  decently  drunk,  he  was  perfectly  cool,  and 
knew  very  well  what  he  was  about.  How  it  was  done  I  do 
not  know,  but  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  when  we  left  Grig- 
non's  rooms  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  M,  de  Trailles 
had  thoroughly  bewitched  me.  I  had  given  him  my  promise 
that  I  would  introduce  him  the  next  day  to  our  Papa  Gobseck. 
The  words   'honor,'  'virtue,'  'countess,'  'honest  woman,' 


M.  GOBSECK.  335 

and  *  ill-luck '  were  mingled  in  his  discourse  with  magical 
potency,  thanks  to  that  golden  tongue  of  his. 

**  When  I  awoke  next  morning,  and  tried  to  recollect  what 
I  had  done  the  day  before,  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I 
could  make  a  connected  tale  from  my  impressions.  At  last, 
it  seemed  to  me  that  the  daughter  of  one  of  my  clients  was 
in  danger  of  losing  her  reputation,  together  with  her  hus- 
band's love  and  esteem,  if  she  could  not  get  fifty  thousand 
francs  together  in  the  course  of  the  morning.  There  had 
been  gaming  debts,  and  carriage-builders'  accounts,  money 
lost  to  heaven  knows  whom.  My  magician  of  a  boon  com- 
panion had  impressed  it  upon  me  that  she  was  rich  enough  to 
make  good  these  reverses  by  a  few  years  of  economy.  But 
only  now  did  I  begin  to  guess  the  reasons  of  his  urgency.  I 
confess,  to  my  shame,  that  I  had  not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt 
but  that  it  was  a  matter  of  importance  that  Daddy  Gobseck 
should  make  it  up  with  this  dandy.  I  was  dressing  when  the 
young  gentleman  appeared. 

"  '  M.  le  Comte,'  said  I,  after  the  usual  greetings,  *I  fail 
to  see  why  you  should  need  me  to  effect  an  introduction  to 
Van  Gobseck,  the  most  civil  and  smooth-spoken  of  capitalists. 
Money  will  be  forthcoming  if  he  has  any,  or  rather,  if  you  can 
give  him  adequate  security.' 

"  *  Monsieur,'  said  he,  *  it  does  not  enter  into  my  thoughts 
to  force  you  to  do  me  a  service,  even  though  you  have  passed 
your  word.' 

"  *  Sardanapalus  ! '  said  I  to  myself,  *  am  I  going  to  let  that 
fellow  imagine  for  one  moment  that  I  will  not  keep  my  word 
with  him  ? ' 

*'  *  I  had  the  honor  of  telling  you  yesterday,'  said  he,  '  that 
I  had  fallen  out  with  Daddy  Gobseck  most  inopportunely; 
and  as  there  is  scarcely  another  man  in  Paris  who  can  come 
down  on  the  nail  with  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  at  the  end 
of  the  month,  I  begged  of  you  to  make  my  peace  with  him. 
But  let  us  say  no  more  about  it ' 


886  M.   GOBSECK. 

"  M.  de  Trailles  looked  at  me  with  civil  insult  in  his 
expression,  and  made  as  if  he  would  take  his  leave. 

'*  *  I  am  ready  to  go  with  you,'  said  I. 

"When  we  reached  the  Rue  des  Gr^s,  my  dandy  looked 
about  him  with  a  circumspection  and  uneasiness  that  set  me 
wondering.  His  face  grew  livid,  flushed,  and  yellow,  turn 
and  turn  about,  and  by  the  time  that  Gobseck's  door  came  in 
sight  the  perspiration  stood  in  drops  on  his  forehead.  We 
were  just  getting  out  of  the  cabriolet,  when  a  hackney  cab 
turned  into  the  street.  My  companion's  hawk's-eye  detected 
a  woman  in  the  depths  of  the  vehicle.  His  face  lighted  up 
with  a  gleam  of  almost  savage  joy  ;  he  called  to  a  little  boy 
who  was  passing,  and  gave  him  his  horse  to  hold.  Then  we 
went  up  to  the  old  bill-discounter. 

**  *  M.  Gobseck,*  said  I,  *  I  have  brought  one  of  my  most 
intimate  friends  to  see  you  (whom  I  trust  as  I  would  trust  the 
devil,'  I  added  for  the  old  man's  private  ear).  *To  oblige 
me  you  will  do  your  best  for  him  (at  the  ordinary  rate),  and 
pull  him  out  of  his  difficulty  (if  it  suits  your  convenience).' 

**  M.  de  Trailles  made  his  bow  to  M.  Gobseck,  took  a  seat, 
and  listened  to  us  with  a  courtier-like  attitude  ;  its  charming 
humility  would  have  touched  your  heart  to  see,  but  my  M. 
Gobseck  sits  in  his  chair  by  the  fireside  without  moving  a 
muscle  or  changing  a  feature.  He  looked  very  much  like  the 
statue  of  Voltaire  under  the  peristyle  of  the  Th^atre-Frangais, 
as  you  see  it  of  an  evening ;  he  had  partly  risen  as  if  to  bow, 
and  the  skull  cap  that  covered  the  top  of  his  head,  and  the 
narrow  strip  of  sallow  forehead  exhibited,  completed  his  like- 
ness to  the  man  of  marble. 

"  *  I  have  no  money  to  spare  except  for  my  own  clients,' 
said  he. 

"  *  So  you  are  cross  because  I  may  have  tried  in  other 
quarters  to  ruin  myself?  '  said  the  Count,  laughing. 

"  'Ruin  yourself!  '  repeated  M.  Gobseck  ironically. 

**  *  Were  you  about  to  remark  that  it  is  impossible  to  ruin  a 


M.   GOBSECK.  837 

man  who  has  nothing  ?  *  inquired  the  dandy.  *  Why  I  defy 
you  to  find  a  better  stock  in  Paris  ! '  he  cried,  swinging  round 
on  his  heels. 

**  This  half-earnest  buffoonery  produced  not  the  slightest 
effect  upon  M.  Gobseck. 

**  *  Am  I  not  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Ronquerolles,  the 
Marsays,  the  Franchessinis,  the  two  Vandenesses,  the  Ajuda- 
Pintos — all  the  most  fashionable  young  men  in  Paris,  in  short? 
A  prince  and  an  ambassador  (you  know  them  both)  are  my 
partners  at  play.  I  draw  my  revenues  from  London  and 
Carlsbad  and  Baden  and  Bath.  Is  not  this  the  most  brilliant 
of  all  industries  !  ' 

"'True.' 

"  *  You  make  a  sponge  of  me,  begad !  so  you  do.  You 
encourage  me  to  go  and  swell  myself  out  in  society,  so  that 
you  can  squeeze  me  when  I  am  hard  up ;  but  you  yourselves 
are  sponges,  just  as  I  am,  and  death  will  give  you  a  squeeze 
some  day.' 

**  'That  is  possible.' 

**  *  If  there  were  no  spendthrifts,  what  would  become  of 
you?     The  pair  of  us  are  like  soul  and  body.' 

"  '  Precisely  so.' 

"  <  Come,  now,  give  us  your  hand,  Grandaddy  Gobseck, 
and  be  magnanimous  if  this  is  "true  "  and  "possible"  and 
"  precisely  so."  * 

"  *  You  come  to  me,'  the  usurer  answered  coldly,  'because 
Girard,  Palma,  Werbrust,  and  Gigonnet  are  full  up  of  your 
paper;  they  are  offering  it  at  a  loss  of  fifty  per  cent.;  and  as 
it  is  likely  they  only  gave  you  half  the  figure  on  the  face  of 
the  bills,  they  are  not  worth  five-and-twenty  per  cent,  of  their 
supposed  value.  I  am  your  most  obedient !  Can  I  in  com- 
mon decency  lend  a  stiver  to  a  man  who  owes  thirty  thousand 
francs,  and  has  not  one  farthing?'  M.  Gobseck  continued. 
*  The  day  before  yesterday  you  lost  ten  thousand  francs  at  a 
ball  at  the  Baron  de  Nucingen's.' 
22 


338  M.  COBSECK. 

***Sir,'  said  the  Count,  with  rare  impudence,  *my  affairs 
are  no  concern  of  yours,'  and  he  looked  the  old  man  up  and 
down.     *  A  man  has  no  debts  till  payment  is  due.' 

*'  'True.' 

"  '  My  bills  will  be  duly  met.' 

"  '  That  is  possible.' 

"  'And  at  this  moment  the  question  between  you  and  me 
is  simply  whether  the  security  I  am  going  to  offer  is  sufficient 
for  the  sum  I  have  come  to  borrow. ' 

"  'Precisely.' 

"A  cab  stopped  at  the  door,  and  the  sound  of  wheels  filled 
the  room. 

"  '  I  will  bring  something  directly  which  perhaps  will  satisfy 
you,'  cried  the  young  man,  and  he  left  the  room. 

"  '  Oh  !  ray  son,'  exclaimed  M.  Gobseck,  rising  to  his  feet, 
and  stretching  out  his  arms  to  me,  '  if  he  has  good  security, 
you  have  saved  my  life.  It  would  be  the  death  of  me.  Wer- 
brust  and  Gigonnet  imagined  that  they  were  going  to  play  off 
a  trick  on  me ;  and  now,  thanks  to  you,  I  shall  have  a  good 
laugh  at  their  expense  to-night.' 

"  There  was  something  frightful  about  the  old  man's  ecstasy. 
It  was  the  one  occasion  when  he  opened  his  heart  to  me  ;  and 
that  flash  of  joy,  swift  though  it  was,  will  never  be  effaced 
from  my  memory. 

"'Favor  me  so  far  as  to  stay  here,'  he  added.  'I  am 
armed,  and  a  sure  shot.  I  have  gone  tiger-hunting,  and 
fought  on  the  deck  when  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
win  or  die ;  but  I  don't  care  to  trust  myself  to  yonder  elegant 
scoundrel.' 

"  He  sat  down  again  in  his  armchair  before  his  bureau,  and 
his  face  grew  pale  and  impassive  as  before. 

"  'Ah  !  '  he  continued,  turning  to  me,  '  you  will  see  that 
lovely  creature  I  once  told  you  about ;  I  can  hear  a  fine  lady's 
step  in  the  corridor ;  it  is  she,  no  doubt ;  '  and,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  young  man  came  in  with  a  woman  on  his  arm.     I 


M.   GOBSECK.  339 

recognized  the  Countess,  whose  lev6e  M.  Gobseck  had  de- 
scribed for  me,  one  of  Father  Goriot's  two  daughters. 

"  The  Countess  did  not  see  me  at  first ;  I  stayed  where  I 
was  in  the  bay  window,  with  my  face  against  the  pane  ;  but 
I  saw  her  give  Maxime  a  suspicious  glance  as  she  came  into 
the  money-lender's  damp,  dark  room.  So  beautiful  was  she, 
that  in  spite  of  her  faults  I  felt  sorry  for  her.  There  was  a 
terrible  storm  of  anguish  in  her  heart ;  the  haughty,  proud 
features  were  drawn  and  distorted  with  pain  which  she  strove 
in  vain  to  disguise.  The  young  man  had  come  to  be  her  evil 
genius.  I  admired  M.  Gobseck,  whose  perspicacity  had  fore- 
seen their  future  four  years  ago  at  the  first  bill  which  she 
endorsed. 

*' '  Probably,'  said  I  to  myself,  *  this  monster  with  the  angel's 
face  controls  every  possible  spring  of  action  in  her  :  rules  her 
through  vanity,  jealousy,  pleasure,  and  the  current  of  life  in 
the  world.'" 

The  Vicomtesse  de  Grandlieu  broke  in  on  the  story. 

"Why,  the  woman's  very  virtues  have  been  turned  against 
her,"  she  exclaimed.  "  He  has  made  her  shed  tears  of  devo- 
tion, he  has  brought  out  the  utmost  natural  generosity  of 
woman,  and  then  abused  her  kindness  and  made  her  pay  very 
dearly  for  unhallowed  bliss." 

Derville  did  not  understand  the  signs  which  Mme.  de 
Grandlieu  made  to  him. 

"I  confess,"  he  said,  "that  I  had  no  inclination  to  shed 
tears  over  the  lot  of  this  unhappy  creature,  so  brilliant  in 
society,  so  repulsive  to  eyes  that  could  read  her  heart ;  I  shud- 
dered rather  at  the  sight  of  her  murderer,  a  young  angel  with 
such  a  clear  brow,  such  red  lips  and  white  teeth,  such  a  win- 
ning smile.  There  they  stood  before  their  judge,  he  scruti- 
nizing them  much  as  some  old  fifteenth-century  Dominican 
inquisitor  might  have  peered  into  the  dungeons  of  the  Holy 
Office  while  the  torture  was  administered  to  two  Moors. 

"  The   Countess  spoke  tremulously.     '  Sir,'  she  said,  *  is 


340  M.  GODSECIC. 

there  any  way  of  obtaining  the  value  of  these  diamonds,  and 
of  keeping  the  right  of  repurchase  ? '  She  held  out  a  jewel- 
case. 

**  'Yes,  madame,'  I  put  in,  and  came  forwards. 

**  She  looked  at  me,  and  a  shudder  ran  through  her  as  she 
recognized  me,  and  gave  me  the  glance  which  means,  '  Say 
nothing  of  this,'  all  the  world  over. 

"  *  This,'  said  I,  *  constitutes  a  sale  with  faculty  of  redemp- 
tion, as  it  is  called,  a  formal  agreement  to  transfer  and  deliver 
over  a  piece  of  property,  either  real  estate  or  personalty,  for 
a  given  time,  on  the  expiration  of  which  the  previous  owner 
recovers  his  title  to  the  property  in  question,  upon  payment 
of  a  stipulated  sum,' 

"  She  breathed  more  freely.  The  Count  looked  black;  he 
had  grave  doubts  whether  Gobseck  would  lend  very  much  on 
the  diamonds  after  such  a  fall  in  their  value.  Gobseck,  im- 
passive as  ever,  had  taken  up  his  magnifying  glass,  and  was 
quietly  scrutinizing  the  jewels.  If  I  were  to  live  for  a  hun- 
dred years,  I  should  never  forget  the  sight  of  his  face  at  that 
moment.  There  was  a  flush  in  his  pale  cheeks;  his  eyes 
seemed  to  have  caught  the  sparkle  of  the  stones,  for  there  was 
an  unnatural  glitter  in  them.  He  rose  and  went  to  the  light, 
holding  the  diamonds  close  to  his  toothless  mouth,  as  if  he 
meant  to  devour  them  ;  mumbling  vague  words  over  them, 
holding  up  bracelets,  sprays,  necklaces,  and  tiaras  one  after 
another,  to  judge  of  their  water,  whiteness,  and  cutting ; 
taking  them  out  of  the  jewel-case  and  putting  them  in  again, 
letting  the  play  of  the  light  bring  out  all  their  fires.  He  was 
more  like  a  child  than  an  old  man ;  or,  rather,  childhood 
and  dotage  seemed  to  meet  in  him. 

** '  Fine  stones  !  The  set  would  have  fetched  three  hundred 
thousand  francs  before  the  Revolution.  What  water.  Genu- 
ine Asiatic  diamonds  from  Golconda  or  Visapur.  Do  you 
know  what  they  are  worth?  No,  no;  no  one  in  Paris  but 
Gobseck  can  appreciate  them.     In  the  time  of  the  empire 


M.   GOBSECK.  341 

such  a  set  would  have  cost  another  two  hundred  thousand 
francs ! ' 

*'  He  gave  a  disgusted  shrug,  and  added — 

"  *  But  now  diamonds  are  going  down  in  value  every  day. 
The  Brazilians  have  swamped  the  market  with  them  since  the 
peace ;  but  the  India  stones  are  a  better  color.  Others  wear 
them  now  besides  court  ladies.     Does  madame  go  to  court  ?  ' 

"While  he  flung  out  these  terrible  words,  he  examined  one 
stone  after  another  with  delight  which  no  words  can  describe. 

"  '  Flawless  !  '  he  said.      *  Here  is  a  speck  ! here  is  a 

flaw  ! A  fine  stone  that  !  ' 

"  His  haggard  face  was  so  lighted  up  by  the  sparkling 
jewels,  that  it  put  me  in  mind  of  a  dingy  old  mirror,  such  as 
you  see  in  country  inns.  The  glass  receives  every  luminous 
image  without  reflecting  the  light,  and  a  traveler  bold  enough 
to  look  for  his  face  in  it  beholds  a  man  in  an  apoplectic  fit. 

"'Well?'  asked  the  Count,  clapping  Gobseck  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  The  old  boy  trembled.  He  put  down  his  playthings  on 
his  bureau,  took  his  seat,  and  was  a  money-lender  once  more 
— hard,  cold,  and  polished  as  a  marble  column. 

**  *  How  much  do  you  want  ? ' 

"  '  One  hundred  thousand  francs  for  three  years,*  said  the 
Count. 

"  'That  is  possible,'  said  Gobseck,  and  from  a  mahogany 
box  (Gobseck' s  jewel-case)  he  drew  out  a  faultlessly  adjusted 
pair  of  scales ! 

"  He  weighed  the  diamonds,  calculating  the  value  of  stones 
and  setting  at  sight  (heaven  knows  how !),  delight  and 
severity  struggling  in  the  expression  of  his  face  the  mean- 
while. The  Countess  was  plunged  in  a  kind  of  a  stupor ;  to 
me,  watching  her,  it  seemed  that  she  was  fathoming  the 
depths  of  the  abyss  into  which  she  had  fallen.  There  was 
remorse  still  left  in  that  woman's  soul.  Perhaps  a  hand  held 
out  in  human  charity  might  save  her.     I  would  try. 


342  M.  GOBSECK. 

"'Are  the  diamonds  your  personal  property,  madame?' 
I  asked  in  a  clear  voice. 

*'  'Yes,  monsieur,'  she  said,  looking  at  me  with  proud  eyes. 

*'  *  Make  out  the  deed  of  purchase  with  power  of  redemp- 
tion, chatterbox,'  said  Gobseck  to  me,  resigning  his  chair  at 
the  bureau  in  my  favor. 

"'Madame  is  without  doubt  a  married  woman?*  I  tried 
again. 

"She  nodded  abruptly. 

*' '  Then  I  will  not  draw  up  the  deed,'  said  I. 

"  '  And  why  not?  '  asked  M.  Gobseck. 

<£  'Why  not?'  echoed  I,  as  I  drew  the  old  man  into  the 
bay  window  so  as  to  speak  aside  with  him.  'Why  not?  This 
woman  is  under  her  husband's  control ;  the  agreement  would 
be  void  in  law ;  you  could  not  possibly  assert  your  ignorance 
of  a  fact  recorded  on  the  very  face  of  the  document  itself. 
You  would  be  compelled  at  once  to  produce  the  diamonds 
deposited  with  you,  according  to  the  weight,  value,  and  cut- 
ting therein  described.' 

"M.  Gobseck  cut  me  short  with  a  nod,  and  turned  towards 
the  guilty  couple. 

"  *  He  is  right ! '  he  said.  '  That  puts  the  whole  thing  in 
a  different  light.  Eighty  thousand  francs  down,  and  you 
leave  the  diamonds  with  me,'  he  added,  in  a  husky,  flute- 
like voice.  *  In  the  way  of  property,  possession  is  as  good  as 
a  title.' 

"  'But '  objected  the  young  man. 

"  'You  can  take  it  or  leave  it,'  continued  M.  Gobseck, 
returning  the  jewel-case  to  the  lady  as  he  spoke. 

"  '  I  have  too  many  risks  to  run.' 

"  '  It  would  be  better  to  throw  yourself  at  your  husband's 
feet,'  I  bent  to  whisper  in  her  ear. 

"The  usurer  doubtless  knew  what  I  was  saying  from  the 
movement  of  my  lips.  He  gave  me  a  cool  glance.  The 
Count's  face  grew  livid.     The  Countess  was  visibly  wavering. 


M.  GOBSECK.  343 

Maxima  stepped  up  to  her,  and,  low  as  he  spoke,  I  could 
catch  the  words — 

*'  *  Adieu,  dear  Anastasie,  may  you  be  happy  !  As  for  me, 
by  to-morrow  my  troubles  will  be  over.' 

"  '  Sir  ! '  cried  the  lady,  turning  to  M.  Gobseck,  *  I  accept 
your  offer.' 

"  '  Come,  now,'  returned  M,  Gobseck.  *  You  have  been  a 
long  time  in  coming  to  it,  my  fair  lady.' 

"  He  wrote  out  a  cheque  for  fifty  thousand  francs  on  the 
Bank  of  France,  and  handed  it  to  the  Countess. 

** '  Now,'  continued  he  with  a  smile,  such  a  smile  as  you 
will  see  in  portraits  of  M.  Voltaire,  '  now  I  will  give  you  the 
rest  of  the  amount  in  bills,  thirty  thousand  francs'  worth  of 
paper  as  good  as  bullion.  This  gentleman  here  has  just  said, 
"My  bills  will  be  met  when  they  are  due,"  '  added  he,  pro- 
ducing certain  drafts  bearing  the  Count's  signature,  all  pro- 
tested the  day  before  at  the  request  of  some  of  the  confrater- 
nity, who  had  probably  made  them  over  to  him  (M.  Gobseck) 
at  a  considerably  reduced  figure. 

**The  young  man  growled  out  something,  in  which  the 
words  *  Old  scoundrel ! '  were  audible.  Daddy  Gobseck  did 
not  move  an  eyebrow.  He  drew  a  pair  of  pistols  out  of  a 
pigeon-hole,  remarking  cooly — 

"  *  As  the  insulted  man,  I  fire  first.' 

**  *  Maxime,  you  owe  this  gentleman  an  explanation,'  cried 
the  trembling  Countess  in  a  low  voice. 

"  *  I  had  no  intention  of  giving  offense,'  stammered 
Maxime. 

**  *  I  am  quite  sure  of  that,'  M.  Gobseck  answered  calmly ; 
*you  had  no  intention  of  meeting  your  bills,  that  was  all.' 

"The  Countess  rose,  bowed,  and  vanished,  with  a  great 
dread  gnawing  her,  I  doubt  not,  M.  de  Trailles  was  bound 
to  follow,  but  before  he  went  he  managed  to  say — 

"  *  If  either  of  you  gentlemen  should  forget  himself,  I  will 
have  his  blood,  or  he  will  have  mine.' 


344  M.  GOBSECK. 

**  *  Amen ! '  called  Daddy  Gobseck  as  he  put  his  pistols 
back  in  their  place ;  *  but  a  man  must  have  blood  in  his  veins 
though  before  he  can  risk  it,  my  son,  and  you  have  nothing 
but  mud  in  yours.' 

"  When  the  door  was  closed,  and  the  two  vehicles  had 
gone,  M.  Gobseck  rose  to  his  feet  and  began  to  prance  about. 

"  '  I  have  the  diamonds  !  I  have  the  diamonds  ! '  he  cried 
again  and  again,  *  the  beautiful  diamonds  !  such  diamonds ! 
and  tolerably  cheap,  too.  Aha  !  aha  !  Werbrust  and  Gigonnet, 
you  thought  you  had  old  Papa  Gobseck  !  Ego  sum  papa  f 
I  am  master  of  the  lot  of  you  !  Paid !  paid,  principal  and 
interest !  How  silly  they  will  look  to-night  when  I  shall  come 
out  with  this  story  between  two  games  of  dominoes  ! ' 

'  *  The  dark  glee,  the  savage  ferocity  aroused  by  the  posses- 
sion of  a  few  water- white  pebbles,  set  me  shuddering.  I  was 
dumb  with  amazement. 

'**Aha!  There  you  are,  my  boy!  '  said  he.  'We  will 
dine  together.  We  will  have  some  fun  at  your  place,  for  I 
haven't  a  home  of  my  own,  and  these  restaurants,  with  their 
broths,  and  sauces,  and  wines,  would  poison  the  devil  him- 
self.' 

**  Something  in  ray  face  suddenly  brought  back  the  usual 
cold,  impassive  expression  to  his, 

"  '  You  don't  understand  it,'  he  said,  and,  sitting  down  by 
the  hearth,  he  put  a  tin  saucepan  full  of  milk  on  the  brasier. 
*  Will  you  breakfast  with  me  ?  '  continued  he.  *  Perhaps 
there  will  be  enough  here  for  two.' 

"  '  Thanks,'  said  I,  *  I  do  not  breakfast  till  noon.* 

"  I  had  scarcely  spoken  before  hurried  footsteps  sounded 
from  the  passage.  The  stranger  stopped  at  M.  Gobseck' s 
door  and  rapped ;  there  was  that  in  the  knock  which  sug- 
gested a  man  transported  with  rage.  M.  Gobseck  reconnoitred 
him  through  the  grating ;  then  he  opened  the  door,  and  in 
came  a  man  of  thirty-five  or  so,  judged  harmless  apparently 
in  spite  of  his  anger.     The  new-comer,  who  was  quite  plainly 


M.  GOBSECK.  345 

dressed,  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  late  Due  de  Riche- 
lieu. You  must  often  have  met  him,  he  was  the  Countess' 
husband,  a  man  with  the  aristocratic  figure  (permit  the  ex- 
pression to  pass)  peculiar  to  statesmen  of  your  Faubourg. 

"'Sir,' said  this  person,  addressing  himself  to  M.  Gob- 
seek,  who  had  quite  recovered  his  tranquillity,  *  did  my  wife 
go  out  of  this  house  just  now  ?  ' 

"  'That  is  possible.' 

"  '  Well,  sir,  do  you  not  take  my  meaning?' 

"'I  have  not  the  honor  of  the  acquaintance  of  my  lady 
your  wife,'  returned  Gobseck.  *I  have  had  a  good  many 
visitors  this  morning,  women  and  men,  and  mannish  young 
ladies,  and  young  gentlemen  who  look  like  young  ladies.  I 
should  find  it  very  hard  to  say ' 

"'A  truce  to  jesting,  sir!  I  mean  the  woman  who  has 
this  moment  gone  out  from  you.' 

"'How  can  I  know  whether  she  is  your  wife  or  not?  I 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  before.' 

"  'You  are  mistaken,  M,  Gobseck,'  said  the  Count,  with 
profound  irony  in  his  voice.  'We  have  met  before,  one 
morning  in  my  wife's  bedroom.  You  had  come  to  demand 
payment  for  a  bill — no  bill  of  hers.' 

**  *  It  was  no  business  of  mine  to  inquire  what  value  she  had 
received  for  it,'  said  M.  Gobseck,  with  a  malignant  look  at 
the  Count.  '  I  had  come  by  the  bill  in  the  way  of  business. 
At  the  same  time,  monsieur,'  continued  M.  Gobseck,  quietly 
pouring  coffee  into  his  bowl  of  milk,  without  a  trace  of  ex- 
citement or  hurry  in  his  voice, '  you  will  permit  me  to  observe 
that  your  right  to  enter  my  house  and  expostulate  with  me  is 
far  from  proven  to  my  mind.  I  came  of  age  in  the  sixty-first 
year  of  the  preceding  century.' 

"'Sir,'  said  the  Count,  'you  have  just  bought  family 
diamonds,  which  do  not  belong  to  my  wife,  for  a  mere  trifle.' 

"  '  Without  feeling  it  incumbent  upon  me  to  tell  you  my 
private  affairs,  I  will  tell  you  this  much,  M.  le  Comte — if 


346  M.  GOBSECK 

Mme.  la  Comtesse  has  taken  your  diamonds,  you  should  have 
sent  a  circular  round  to  all  the  jewelers,  giving  them  notice 
not  to  buy  them  ;  she  might  have  sold  them  separately.' 

"  '  You  know  my  wife,  sir ! '  roared  the  Count. 

"'True.' 

**  *  She  is  in  her  husband's  power.' 

"  'That  is  possible.' 

**  *  She  had  no  right  to  dispose  of  those  diamonds ' 

"  'Precisely.' 

"  'Very  well,  sir?  ' 

"  '  Very  well,  sir.  I  knew  your  wife,  and  she  is  in  her  hus- 
band's power ;  I  am  quite  willing,  she  is  in  the  power  of  a 
good  many  people ;  but — I — do — not — know — your  diamonds. 
If  Mme.  la  Comtesse  can  put  her  name  to  a  bill,  she  can  go 
into  business  of  course,  and  buy  and  sell  diamonds  on  her 
own  account.     The  thing  is  plain  on  the  face  of  it ! ' 

"  '  Good-day,  sir  ! '  cried  the  Count,  now  white  with  rage. 
*  There  are  courts  of  justice. ' 

"'Quite  so.' 

"  '  This  gentleman  here,'  he  added,  indicating  me,  'was  a 
witness  of  the  sale.' 

"That  is  possible.' 

"The  Count  turned  to  go.  Feeling  the  gravity  of  the 
affair,  I  suddenly  put  in  between  the  two  belligerent?. 

" '  M.  le  Comte,'  said  I,  'you  are  right,  and  M.  Gobseck 
is  by  no  means  in  the  wrong.  You  could  not  prosecute  the 
purchaser  without  bringing  your  wife  into  court,  and  the 
whole  of  the  odium  would  not  fall  on  her.  I  am  an  attorney, 
and  I  owe  it  to  myself,  and  still  more  to  my  professional  posi- 
tion, to  declare  that  the  diamonds  of  which  you  speak  were 
purchased  by  M.  Gobseck  in  my  presence ;  but,  in  my  opin- 
ion, it  would  be  unwise  to  dispute  the  legality  of  the  sale, 
especially  as  the  goods  are  not  readily  recognizable.  In  equity 
your  contention  would  lie,  in  law  it  would  collapse.  M.  Gob- 
seck is  too  honest  a  man  to  deny  that  the  sale  was  a  profitable 


M.  GOBSECK.  347 

transaction,  more  especially  as  my  conscience,  no  less  than 
my  duty,  compels  me  to  make  the  admission.  But  once  bring 
the  case  into  a  court  of  law,  M.  le  Comte,  the  issue  would  be 
doubtful.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  come  to  terms  with  M. 
Gobseck,  who  can  plead  that  he  bought  the  diamonds  in  all 
good  faith ;  you  would  be  bound  in  any  case  to  return  the 
purchase  money.  Consent  to  an  arrangement,  with  power  to 
redeem  at  the  end  of  seven  or  eight  months,  or  a  year  even, 
or  any  convenient  lapse  of  time,  for  the  repayment  of  the 
sum  borrowed  by  Mme.  la  Comtesse,  unless  you  would  prefer 
to  repurchase  them  outright  and  give  security  for  repayment.' 

'*  Gobseck  dipped  his  bread  into  the  bowl  of  coffee,  and  ate 
with  perfect  indifference;  but  at  the  words  'come  to  terms,' 
he  looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say,  '  A  fine  fellow  that !  he 
has  learned  something  from  my  lessons ! '  And  I,  for  my 
part,  riposted  with  a  glance,  which  he  understood  uncom- 
monly well.  The  business  was  dubious  and  shady ;  there  was 
pressing  need  of  coming  to  terms.  Gobseck  could  not  deny 
all  knowledge  of  it,  for  I  should  appear  as  a  witness.  The 
Count  thanked  me  with  a  smile  of  good-will. 

"  In  the  debate  which  followed,  Gobseck  showed  greed 
enough  and  skill  enough  to  baffle  a  whole  congress  of  diplo- 
matists ;  but  in  the  end  I  drew  up  an  instrument,  in  which 
the  Count  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  eighty-five  thousand 
francs,  interest  included,  in  consideration  of  which  Gobseck 
undertook  to  return  the  diamonds  to  the  Count. 

"' What  waste  ! '  exclaimed  he  as  he  put  his  signature  to 
the  agreement.      *  How  is  it  possible  to  bridge  such  a  gulf?  ' 

** '  Have  you  many  children,  sir?'  Gobseck  asked  gravely. 

"The  Count  winced  at  the  question;  it  was  as  if  the  old 
money-lender,  like  an  experienced  physician,  had  put  his  finger 
at  once  on  the  sore  spot.  The  Comtesse's  husband  did  not 
reply. 

"  '  Well,'  said  Gobseck,  taking  the  pained  silence  for  an- 
swer, '  I  know  your  story  by  heart.     The  woman  is  a  fiend, 


348  M.  GOBSECK. 

but  perhaps  you  love  her  still ;  I  can  well  believe  it ;  she 
made  an  impression  on  me.  Perhaps,  too,  you  would  rather 
save  your  fortune,  and  keep  it  for  one  or  two  of  your  chil- 
dren ?  Well,  fling  yourself  into  the  whirlpool  of  society,  lose 
that  fortune  at  play,  come  to  Gobseck  pretty  often.  The 
world  will  say  that  I  am  a  Jew,  a  Tartar,  a  usurer,  a  pirate, 
will  say  that  I  have  ruined  you !  I  snap  my  fingers  at 
them !  If  anybody  insults  me,  I  lay  my  man  out ;  nobody 
is  a  surer  shot  nor  handles  a  rapier  better  than  your  servant. 
And  every  one  knows  it.  Then,  have  a  friend — if  you  can 
find  one — and  make  over  your  property  to  him  by  a  fictitious 
sale.  You  call  that  a  fidei  commissum,  don't  you?  '  he  asked, 
turning  to  me. 

''The  Count  seemed  to  be  entirely  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts. 

"  'You  shall  have  your  money  to-morrow,'  he  said,  'have 
the  diamonds  in  readiness,'  and  he  went. 

"  *  There  goes  one  who  looks  to  me  to  be  as  stupid  as  an 
honest  man,'  M.  Gobseck  said  coolly  when  the  Count  had 
gone. 

"  '  Say  rather  stupid  as  a  man  of  passionate  nature.' 

"  '  The  Count  owes  you  your  fee  for  drawing  up  the  agree- 
ment ! '  M.  Gobseck  called  after  me  as  I  took  my  leave. 

"  One  morning,  a  few  days  after  the  scene  which  initiated 
me  into  the  terrible  depths  beneath  the  surface  of  the  life  of  a 
woman  of  fashion,  the  Count  came  into  my  private  office. 

"  '  I  have  come  to  consult  you  on  a  matter  of  grave  mo- 
ment,' he  said,  '  and  I  begin  by  telling  you  that  I  have  perfect 
confidence  in  you,  as  I  hope  to  prove  to  you.  Your  behavior 
to  Mme.  de  Grandlieu  is  above  all  praise,'  the  Count  went 
on.  (You  see,  madame,  that  you  have  paid  me  a  thousand 
times  over  for  a  very  simple  matter.) 

"  I  bowed  respectfully,  and  replied  that  I  had  done  nothing 
but  the  duty  of  an  honest  man. 


M.  GOBSECK.  349 

"  '  Well/  the  Count  went  on,  '  I  have  made  a  great  many 
inquiries  about  the  singular  personage  to  whom  you  owe  your 
position.  And  from  all  that  I  can  learn,  M.  Gobseck  is  a 
philosopher  of  the  Cynic  school.  What  do  you  think  of  his 
probity  ? ' 

"  '  M.  le  Comte,'  said  I,  '  M,  Gobseck  is  my  benefactor — 
at  fifteen  per  cent.,'  I  added,  laughing.  *  But  his  avarice  does 
not  authorize  me  to  paint  him  to  the  life  for  a  stranger's 
benefit.' 

"  '  Speak  out,  sir.  Your  frankness  cannot  injure  M.  Gob- 
seck or  yourself.  I  do  not  expect  to  find  an  angel  in  a 
pawnbroker.* 

"  '  Daddy  Gobseck,'  I  began,  '  is  intimately  convinced  of 
the  truth  of  the  principle  which  he  takes  for  a  rule  of  life.  In 
his  opinion,  money  is  a  commodity  which  you  may  sell  cheap 
or  dear,  according  to  circumstances,  with  a  clear  conscience. 
A  capitalist,  by  charging  a  high  rate  of  interest,  becomes  in 
his  eyes  a  secured  partner  by  anticipation  in  the  profits  of  a 
paying  concern  or  speculation.  Apart  from  the  peculiar  philo- 
sophical views  of  human  nature  and  financial  principles,  which 
enable  him  to  behave  like  a  usurer,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that, 
out  of  his  business,  he  is  the  most  loyal  and  upright  soul  in 
Paris.  There  are  two  men  in  him  ;  he  is  petty  and  great — a 
miser  and  a  philosopher.  If  I  were  to  die  and  leave  a  family 
behind  me,  he  would  be  the  guardian  whom  I  should  appoint. 
This  was  how  I  came  to  see  M.  Gobseck  in  this  light,  mon- 
sieur. I  know  nothing  of  his  past  life.  He  may  have  been 
a  pirate,  may,  for  anything  I  know,  have  been  all  over  the 
world,  trafficking  in  diamonds,  or  men,  or  women,  or  state 
secrets ;  but  this  I  affirm  of  him — never  has  human  soul  been 
more  thoroughly  tempered  and  tried.  When  I  paid  off  my 
loan,  I  asked  him,  with  a  little  circumlocution  of  course,  how 
it  was  that  he  had  made  me  pay  such  an  exorbitant  rate  of 
interest ;  and  why,  seeing  that  I  was  a  friend,  and  he  meant 
to  do  me  a  kindness,  he  should  not  have  yielded  to  the  wish 


350  M.  GOBSECK. 

and  made  it  complete.  "  My  son,"  he  said,  "I  released  you 
from  all  need  to  feel  any  gratitude  by  giving  you  ground  for 
the  belief  that  you  owed  me  nothing."  So  we  are  the  best 
friends  in  the  world.  That  answer,  monsieur,  gives  you  the 
man  better  than  any  amount  of  description.' 

**  *  I  have  made  up  my  mind  once  and  for  all,'  said  the 
Count.  *  Draw  up  the  necessary  papers ;  I  am  going  to 
transfer  my  property  to  Gobseck.  I  have  no  one  but  you  to 
trust  to  in  the  draft  of  the  counter-deed,  which  will  declare 
that  this  transfer  is  a  simulated  sale,  and  that  Gobseck  as 
trustee  will  administer  my  estate  (as  he  knows  how  to  admin- 
ister), and  undertakes  to  make  over  my  fortune  to  my  eldest 
son  when  he  comes  of  age.  Now,  sir,  this  I  must  tell  you  : 
I  should  be  afraid  to  have  that  precious  document  in  my  own 
keeping.  My  boy  is  so  fond  of  his  mother,  that  I  cannot 
trust  him  with  it.  So  dare  I  beg  of  you  to  keep  it  for  me  ? 
In  case  of  death,  Gobseck  would  make  you  legatee  of  my 
property.     Every  contingency  is  provided  for.' 

"  The  Count  paused  for  a  moment.  He  seemed  greatly 
agitated. 

"  '  A  thousand  pardons,'  he  said  at  length  ;  *  I  am  in  great 
pain,  and  have  very  grave  misgivings  as  to  my  health.  Recent 
troubles  have  disturbed  me  very  painfully,  and  forced  me  to 
take  this  great  step.' 

**  *  Allow  me  first  to  thank  you,  monsieur,'  said  I,  *  for  the 
trust  you  place  in  me.  But  I  am  bound  to  deserve  it  by 
pointing  out  to  you  that  you  are  disinheriting  your — other 
children.  They  bear  your  name.  Merely  as  the  children  of 
a  once-loved  wife,  now  fallen  from  her  position,  they  have  a 
claim  to  an  assured  existence.  I  tell  you  plainly  that  I  cannot 
accept  the  trust  with  which  you  propose  to  honor  me  unless 
their  future  is  secured.' 

"  The  Count  trembled  violently  at  the  words,  and  tears 
came  into  his  eyes  as  he  grasped  my  hand,  saying,  *  I  did  not 
know  my  man  thoroughly.     You  have  made  me  both  glad  and 


M.  GOB  SEC JC.  851 

sorry.  We  will  make  provision  for  the  children  in  the 
counter-deed.' 

*'  I  went  with  him  to  the  door ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  there 
was  a  glow  of  satisfaction  in  his  face  at  the  thought  of  this 
act  of  justice. 

"  Now,  Camille,  this  is  how  a  young  wife  takes  the  first 
step  to  the  brink  of  a  precipice.  A  quadrille,  a  ballad,  a 
picnic  party  is  sometimes  cause  sufficient  of  frightful  evils. 
You  are  hurried  on  by  the  presumptuous  voice  of  vanity  and 
pride,  on  the  faith  of  a  smile  or  through  giddiness  and  folly  ! 
Shame  and  misery  and  remorse  are  three  furies  awaiting  every 
woman  the  moment  she  oversteps  the  limits " 

"Poor  Camille  can  hardly  keep  awake,"  the  Vicomtesse 
hastily  broke  in.  "  Go  to  bed,  child;  you  have  no  need  of 
appalling  pictures  to  keep  you  pure  in  heart  and  conduct." 

Camille  de  Grandlieu  took  the  hint  and  went. 

"You  were  going  rather  too  far,  dear  M.  Derville,"  said 
the  Vicomtesse,  **  an  attorney  is  not  a  mother  of  daughters 
nor  yet  a  preacher." 

**  But  any  newspaper  is  a  thousand  times " 

"Poor  Derville  !  "  exclaimed  the  Vicomtesse,  "what  has 
come  over  you  ?  Do  you  really  imagine  that  I  allow  a 
daughter  of  mine  to  read  the  newspapers?  Go  on,"  she 
added  after  a  pause. 

"  Three  months  after  everything  was  signed  and  sealed 
between  the  Count  and  Gobseck " 

"  You  can  call  him  the  Comte  de  Restaud,  now  that  Camille 
is  not  here,"  said  the  Vicomtesse. 

"  So  be  it !  Well,  time  went  by,  and  I  saw  nothing  of  the 
counter-deed,  which  by  rights  should  have  been  in  my  hands. 
An  attorney  in  Paris  lives  in  such  a  whirl  of  business  that 
with  certain  exceptions  which  we  make  for  ourselves,  we  have 
not  the  time  to  give  each  individual  client  the  amount  of 
interest  which  he  himself  takes  in  his  affairs.  Still,  one  day 
when  Gobseck  came  to  dine  with  me,  I  asked  him  as  we  left 


352  M.  GOBSECK. 

the  table  if  he  knew  how  it  was  that  I  had  heard  no  more  of 
M.  de  Restaud. 

"'There  are  excellent  reasons  for  that,'  he  said;  'the 
noble  Count  is  at  death's  door.  He  is  one  of  the  soft  stamp 
that  cannot  learn  how  to  put  an  end  to  chagrin,  and  allow  it 
to  wear  them  out  instead.  Life  is  a  craft,  a  profession  ;  every 
man  must  take  the  trouble  to  learn  that  business.  When  he 
has  learned  what  life  is  by  dint  of  painful  experiences,  the 
fibre  of  him  is  toughened,  and  acquires  a  certain  elasticity,  so 
that  he  has  his  sensibilities  under  his  own  control ;  he  disci- 
plines himself  till  his  nerves  are  like  steel  springs,  which 
always  bend,  but  never  break  ;  given  a  sound  digestion,  and 
a  man  in  such  training  ought  to  live  as  long  as  the  cedars  of 
Lebanon,  and  famous  trees  they  are.' 

**  *  Then  is  the  Count  actually  dying  ?  '  I  asked. 

"  *  That  is  possible,'  said  Gobseck ;  *  the  winding  up  of  his 
estate  will  be  a  juicy  bit  of  business  for  you.* 

"  I  looked  at  my  man,  and  said,  by  way  of  sounding  him — 

** '  Just  explain  to  me  how  it  is  that  we,  the  Count  and  I, 
are  the  only  men  in  whom  you  take  an  interest  ?  * 

"'Because  you  are  the  only  two  who  have  trusted  me 
without  finessing,'  he  said. 

"Although  this  answer  warranted  my  belief  that  Gobseck 
would  act  fairly  even  if  the  counter-deed  were  lost,  I  resolved 
to  go  to  see  the  Count.  I  pleaded  a  business  engagement, 
and  we  separated. 

"  I  went  straight  to  the  Rue  du  Helder,  and  was  shown 
into  a  room  where  the  Countess  sat  playing  with  her  children. 
When  she  heard  my  name,  she  sprang  up  and  came  to  meet 
me,  then  she  sat  down  and  pointed  without  a  word  to  a  chair 
by  the  fire.  Her  face  wore  the  inscrutable  mask  beneath 
which  women  of  the  world  conceal  their  most  vehement 
emotions.  Trouble  had  withered  that  face  already.  Nothing 
of  its  beauty  now  remained,  save  the  marvelous  outlines  in 
which  its  principal  charm  had  lain. 


M.  GOBSECK.  353 

"  *  It  is  essential,  madame,  that  I  should  speak  to  M.  le 
Comte ' 

"  '  If  so,  you  would  be  more  favored  than  I  am,'  she  said, 
interrupting  me.  '  M.  de  Restaud  will  see  ^o  one.  He  will 
hardly  allow  his  doctor  to  come,  and  will  not  be  nursed  even 
by  me.  When  people  are  ill,  they  have  such  strange  fancies ! 
They  are  like  children,  they  do  not  know  what  they  want.' 

"  'Perhaps,  like  children,  they  know  very  well  what  they 
want.' 

"  The  Countess  reddened.  I  almost  repented  a  thrust 
worthy  of  Gobseck.  So,  by  way  of  changing  the  conversa- 
tion, I  added,  '  But  M.  de  Restaud  cannot  possibly  lie  there 
alone  all  day,  madame.' 

"  '  His  oldest  boy  is  with  him,'  she  said. 

"  It  was  useless  to  gaze  at  the  Countess;  she  did  not  blush 
this  time,  and  it  looked  to  me  as  if  she  were  resolved  more 
firmly  than  ever  that  I  should  not  penetrate  into  her  secrets. 

"  '  You    must  understand,  madame,  that    ray  proceeding 

is  no  way  indiscreet.     It  is  strongly  to  his  interest '     I 

bit  my  lips,  feeling  that  I  had  gone  the  wrong  way  to  work. 
The  Countess  immediately  took  advantage  of  my  slip. 

**  'My  interests  are  in  no  way  separate  from  my  husband's, 
sir,*  said  she.  *  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  you  addressing 
yourself  to  me ' 

"  *  The  business  which  brings  me  here  concerns  no  one  but 
M.  le  Comte,'  I  said  firmly. 

"  *  I  will  let  him  know  of  your  wish  to  see  him.* 

**  The  civil  tone  and  expression  assumed  for  the  occasion 
did  not  impose  upon  me  ;  I  divined  that  she  would  never 
allow  me  to  see  her  husband.  I  chatted  on  about  indifferent 
matters  for  a  little  while,  so  as  to  study  her;  but,  like  all 
women  who  have  once  begun  to  plot  for  themselves,  she  could 
dissimulate  with  the  rare  perfection  which,  in  your  sex,  means 
the  last  degree  of  perfidy.  If  I  may  dare  to  say  it,  I  looked 
for  anything  from  her,  even  a  crime.  She  produced  this 
23 


854  M.  GOBSECK. 

feeling  in  me,  because  it  was  so  evident  from  her  manner  and 

in  all  that  she  did  or  said,  down  to  the  very  inflections  of  her 
voice,  that  she  had  an  eye  to  the  future.     I  went. 

**  Now  I  will  pass  on  to  the  final  scenes  of  this  adventure, 
throwing  in  a  few  circumstances  brought  to  light  by  time, 
and  some  details  guessed  by  Gobseck's  perspicacity  or  by  my 
own. 

"  When  the  Comte  de  Restaud  apparently  plunged  into  the 
vortex  of  dissipation,  something  passed  between  the  husband 
and  wife,  something  which  remains  an  impenetrable  secret, 
but  the  wife  sank  even  lower  in  the  husband's  eyes.  As  soon 
as  he  became  so  ill  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  to  his  bed,  he 
manifested  his  aversion  for  the  Countess  and  the  two  youngest 
children.  He  forbade  them  to  enter  his  room,  and  any 
attempt  to  disobey  his  wishes  brought  on  such  dangerous 
attacks  that  the  doctor  implored  the  Countess  to  submit  to 
her  husband's  wish. 

**  Mme.  de  Restaud  had  seen  the  family  estates  and  prop- 
erty, nay,  the  very  mansion  in  which  she  lived,  pass  into  the 
hands  of  Gobseck,  who  appeared  to  play  the  fantastic  part  of 
ogre  so  far  as  their  wealth  was  concerned.  She  partially 
understood  what  her  husband  was  doing,  no  doubt.  M.  de 
Trailles  was  traveling  in  England  (his  creditors  had  been  a 
little  too  pressing  of  late),  and  no  one  else  was  in  a  position 
to  enlighten  the  lady,  and  explain  that  her  husband  was 
taking  precautions  against  her  at  Gobseck's  suggestion.  It 
is  said  that  she  held  out  for  a  long  while  before  she  gave  the 
signature  required  by  French  law  for  the  sale  of  the  property ; 
nevertheless  the  Count  gained  his  point.  The  Countess  was 
convinced  that  her  husband  was  realizing  his  fortune,  and  that 
somewhere  or  other  there  would  be  a  little  bunch  of  notes 
representing  the  amount ;  they  had  been  deposited  with  a 
notary,  or  perhaps  at  the  bank,  or  in  some  safe  hiding-place. 
Following  out  her  train  of  thought,  it  was  evident  that  M.  de 
Restaud  must  of  necessity  have  some  kind  of  document  in 


M.  GOBSECK.  355 

his  possession  by  which  any  remaining  property  could  be 
recovered  and  handed  over  to  his  son. 

"  So  she  made  up  her  mind  to  keep  the  strictest  possible 
watch  over  the  sick-room.  She  ruled  despotically  in  the 
house,  and  everything  in  it  was  submitted  to  this  feminine 
espionage.  All  day  she  sat  in  the  salon  adjoining  her  hus- 
band's room,  so  that  she  could  hear  every  syllable  that  he 
uttered,  every  least  movement  that  he  made.  She  had  a  bed 
put  there  for  her  of  a  night,  but  she  did  not  sleep  very  much. 
The  doctor  was  entirely  in  her  interests.  Such  wifely  devo- 
tion seemed  praiseworthy  enough.  With  the  natural  subtlety 
of  perfidy,  she  took  care  to  disguise  M.  de  Restaud's  repug- 
nance for  her,  and  feigned  distress  so  perfectly  that  she  gained 
a  sort  of  celebrity.  Straight-laced  women  were  even  found  to 
say  that  she  had  expiated  her  sins.  Always  before  her  eyes 
she  beheld  a  vision  of  the  destitution  to  follow  on  the  Count's 
death  if  her  presence  of  mind  should  fail  her ;  and  in  these 
ways  the  wife,  repulsed  from  the  bed  of  pain  on  which  her 
husband  lay  and  groaned,  had  drawn  a  charmed  circle  round 
about  it.  So  near,  yet  kept  at  a  distance ;  all-powerful,  but 
in  disgrace,  the  apparently  devoted  wife  was  lying  in  wait  for 
death  and  opportunity;  crouching  like  the  ant-lion  at  the 
bottom  of  his  spiral  pit,  ever  on  the  watch  for  the  prey  that 
cannot  escape,  listening  to  the  fall  of  every  grain  of  sand. 

"The  strictest  censor  could  not  but  recognize  that  the 
Countess  pushed  maternal  sentiment  to  the  last  degree.  Her 
father's  death  had  been  a  lesson  to  her,  people  said.  She 
worshiped  her  children.  They  were  so  young  that  she  could 
hide  the  disorders  of  her  life  from  their  eyes,  and  could  win 
their  love ;  she  had  given  them  the  best  and  most  brilliant 
education.  I  confess  that  I  cannot  help  admiring  her  and 
feeling  sorry  for  her.  Gobseck  used  to  joke  me  about  it. 
Just  about  that  time  she  had  discovered  Maxime's  baseness, 
and  was  expiating  the  sins  of  the  past  in  tears  of  blood.  I 
am  sure  of  it.     Hateful  as  were  the  measures  which  she  took 


366  M.  GOBSECK. 

for  regaining  control  of  her  husband's  money,  were  they  not 
the  result  of  a  mother's  love,  and  a  desire  to  repair  the  wrongs 
she  had  done  her  children?  And  again,  it  may  be,  like 
many  a  woman  who  has  experienced  the  storms  of  lawless 
love,  she  felt  a  longing  to  lead  a  virtuous  life  again.  Perhaps 
she  only  learned  the  worth  of  that  life  when  she  came  to  reap 
the  woful  harvest  sown  by  her  errors. 

"  Every  time  that  little  Ernest  came  out  of  his  father's 
room,  she  put  him  through  a  searching  examination  as  to  all 
that  his  father  had  done  or  said.  The  boy  willingly  complied 
with  his  mother's  wishes,  and  told  her  even  more  than  she 
asked  in  her  anxious  affection,  as  he  thought. 

"  My  visit  was  a  ray  of  light  for  the  Countess.  She  was 
determined  to  see  in  me  the  instrument  of  the  Count's  venge- 
ance, and  resolved  that  I  should  not  be  allowed  to  go  near 
the  dying  man.  I  augured  ill  of  all  this,  and  earnestly  wished 
for  an  interview,  for  I  was  not  easy  in  my  mind  about  the  fate 
of  the  counter-deed.  If  it  should  fall  into  the  Countess' 
hands,  she  might  turn  it  to  her  own  account,  and  that  would 
be  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  interminable  lawsuits  between 
her  and  Gobseck.  I  knew  the  usurer  well  enough  to  feel 
convinced  that  he  would  never  give  up  the  property  to  her ; 
there  was  room  for  plenty  of  legal  quibbling  over  a  series  of 
transfers,  and  I  alone  knew  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  matter. 
I  was  minded  to  prevent  such  a  tissue  of  misfortune,  so  I  went 
to  the  Countess  a  second  time. 

"I  have  noticed,  madame,"  said  Derville,  turning  to  the 
Vicomtesse,  and  speaking  in  a  confidential  tone,  "  certain 
moral  phenomena  to  which  we  do  not  pay  enough  attention. 
I  am  naturally  an  observer  of  human  nature,  and  instinctively 
I  bring  a  spirit  of  analysis  to  the  business  that  I  transact  in 
the  interest  of  others,  when  human  passions  are  called  into 
lively  play.  Now,  I  have  often  noticed,  and  always  with  new 
wonder,  that  two  antagonists  almost  always  divine  each 
other's  inmost  thoughts  and  ideas.     Two  enemies  sometimes 


M.  GOBSECK.  367 

possess  a  power  of  clear  insight  into  mental  processes,  and 
read  each  other's  minds  as  two  lovers  read  in  either  soul.  So 
when  we  came  together,  the  Countess  and  I,  I  understood  at 
once  the  reason  of  her  antipathy  for  me,  disguised  though  it 
was  by  the  most  gracious  forms  of  politeness  and  civility.  I 
had  been  forced  to  be  her  confidant,  and  a  woman  cannot 
but  hate  the  man  before  whom  she  is  compelled  to  blush. 
And  she  on  her  side  knew  that  if  I  was  the  man  in  whom  her 
husband  placed  confidence,  that  husband  had  not  as  yet  given 
up  his  fortune. 

"  I  will  spare  you  the  conversation,  but  it  abides  in  my 
memory  as  one  of  the  most  dangerous  encounters  in  my 
career.  Nature  had  bestowed  on  her  all  the  qualities  which, 
combined,  are  irresistibly  fascinating ;  she  could  be  pliant 
and  proud  by  turns,  and  confiding  and  coaxing  in  her  man- 
ner ;  she  even  went  so  far  as  to  try  to  arouse  curiosity  and 
kindle  love  in  her  effort  to  subjugate  me.  It  was  a  failure. 
As  I  took  my  leave  of  her,  I  caught  a  gleam  of  hate  and  rage 
in  her  eyes  that  made  me  shudder.  We  parted  enemies.  She 
would  fain  have  crushed  me  out  of  existence ;  and  for  my 
own  part,  I  felt  pity  for  her,  and  for  some  natures  pity  is  the 
deadliest  of  insults.  This  feeling  pervaded  the  last  represen- 
tations I  put  before  her ;  and  when  I  left  her,  I  left,  I  think, 
dread  in  the  depths  of  her  soul,  by  declaring  that,  turn  which 
way  she  would,  ruin  lay  inevitably  before  her. 

*'  *  If  I  were  to  see  M.  le  Comte,  your  children's  property 
at  any  rate  would ' 

"  '  I  should  be  at  your  mercy,'  she  said,  breaking  in  upon 
me,  disgust  in  her  gesture. 

"  Now  that  we  had  spoken  frankly,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  save  the  family  from  impending  destitution.  I  resolved  to 
strain  the  law  at  need  to  gain  my  ends,  and  this  was  what  I 
did.  I  sued  the  Comte  de  Restaud  for  a  sum  of  money, 
ostensibly  due  to  Gobseck,  and  gained  judgment.  The 
Countess,  of  course,  did  not  allow  him  to  know  of  this,  but  I 


358  M.  GOBSECK. 

had  gained  my  point,  I  had  a  right  to  affix  seals  to  everything 
on  the  death  of  the  Count.  I  bribed  one  of  the  servants  in 
the  house — the  man  undertook  to  let  me  know  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night  if  his  master  should  be  at  the  point  of  death, 
so  that  I  could  intervene  at  once,  scare  the  Countess  with  a 
threat  of  affixing  seals,  and  so  secure  the  counter-deed. 

**  I  learned  later  on  that  the  woman  was  studying  the  Code, 
with  her  husband's  dying  moans  in  her  ears.  If  we  could 
picture  the  thoughts  of  those  who  stand  about  a  death-bed, 
what  fearful  sights  should  we  not  see  ?  Money  is  always  the 
motive-spring  of  the  schemes  elaborated,  of  all  the  plans  that 
are  made  and  the  plots  that  are  woven  about  it !  Let  us  leave 
these  details,  nauseating  in  the  nature  of  them  ;  but  perhaps 
they  may  have  given  you  some  insight  into  all  that  this  hus- 
band and  wife  endured ;  perhaps  too  they  may  unveil  much 
that  is  passing  in  secret  in  other  houses. 

**  For  two  months  the  Comte  de  Restaud  lay  on  his  bed, 
alone,  and  resigned  to  his  fate.  Mortal  disease  was  slowly 
sapping  the  strength  of  mind  and  body.  Unaccountable  and 
grotesque  sick  fancies  preyed  upon  him ;  he  would  not  suffer 
them  to  set  his  room  in  order,  no  one  should  nurse  him,  he 
would  not  even  allow  them  to  make  his  bed.  All  his  sur- 
roundings bore  the  marks  of  this  last  degree  of  apathy,  the 
furniture  was  out  of  place,  the  daintiest  trifles  were  covered 
with  dust  and  cobwebs.  In  health  he  had  been  a  man  of  re- 
fined and  expensive  tastes,  now  he  positively  delighted  in  the 
comfortless  look  of  the  room.  A  host  of  objects  required  in 
illness — rows  of  medicine  bottles,  empty  and  full,  most  of 
them  dirty;  crumpled  linen,  and  broken  plates — littered  the 
writing-table,  chairs,  and  chimney-pieces.  An  open  warming- 
pan  lay  on  the  floor  before  the  grate  ;  a  bath,  still  full  of 
mineral  water,  had  not  been  taken  away.  The  sense  of  com- 
ing  dissolution  pervaded  all  the  details  of  an  unsightly  chaos. 
Signs  of  death  appeared  in  things  inanimate  before  the 
destroyer  came  to  the  body  on  the  bed.     The   Comte  de 


M.  GOBSECK.  359 

Restaud  could  not  bear  the  daylight,  the  Venetian  shutters 
were  closed,  darkness  deepened  the  gloom  in  the  dismal 
chamber.  The  sick  man  himself  had  wasted  greatly.  All 
the  life  in  him  seemed  to  have  taken  refuge  in  the  still  bril- 
liant eyes.  The  livid  whiteness  of  his  face  was  something 
horrible  to  see,  enhanced  as  it  was  by  the  long  dank  locks  of 
hair  that  straggled  along  his  cheeks,  for  he  would  never  suffer 
them  to  cut  it.  He  looked  like  some  religious  fanatic  in  the 
desert.  Mental  suffering  was  extinguishing  all  human  instincts 
in  this  man  of  scarce  fifty  years  of  age,  whom  all  Paris  had 
known  as  so  brilliant  and  so  successful. 

"One  morning  at  the  beginning  of  December,  1824,  he 
looked  up  at  Ernest,  who  sat  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  gazing  at 
his  father  with  wistful  eyes. 

*'  '  Are  you  in  pain  ? '  the  little  Vicomte  asked. 

"  '  No,'  said  the  Count,  with  a  ghastly  smile,  *it  all  lies 
here  and  about  my  heart ! ' 

*'  He  pointed  to  his  forehead,  and  then  laid  his  wasted 
fingers  on  his  hollow  chest.     Ernest  began  to  cry  at  the  sight. 

"  '  How  is  it  that  M.  Derville  does  not  come  to  me?  '  the 
Count  asked  his  servant  (he  thought  that  Maurice  was  really 
attached  to  him,  but  the  man  was  entirely  in  the  Countess' 
interest) — 'What!  Maurice!'  and  the  dying  man  suddenly 
sat  upright  in  his  bed,  and  seemed  to  recover  all  his  presence 
of  mind,  '  I  have  sent  for  my  attorney  seven  or  eight  times 
during  the  last  fortnight,  and  he  does  not  come  ! '  he  cried. 
'  Do  you  imagine  that  I  am  to  be  trifled  with  ?  Go  for  him, 
at  once,  this  very  instant,  and  bring  him  back  with  you.  If 
you  do  not  carry  out  my  orders,  I  shall  get  up  and  go  myself.* 

"  '  Madame,'  said  the  man  as  he  came  into  the  salon,  *  you 
heard  M.  le  Comte ;  what  ought  I  to  do  ? ' 

(<  i  Pretend  to  go  to  the  attorney,  and  when  you  come  back, 
tell  your  master  that  his  man  of  business  is  forty  leagues  away 
from  Paris  on  an  important  lawsuit.  Say  that  he  is  expected 
back  at  the  end  of  the  week.     Sick  people  never  know  how 


360  M.   GOBSECK. 

ill  they  are,'  thought  the  Countess ;  *  he  will  wait  till  the  man 
comes  home.' 

"  The  doctor  had  said  on  the  previous  evening  that  the 
Count  could  scarcely  live  through  the  day.  When  the  servant 
came  back  two  hours  later  to  give  that  hopeless  answer,  the 
dying  man  seemed  to  be  greatly  agitated. 

*'  *  O  God  !'  he  cried  again  and  again,  '  I  put  my  trust  in 
none  but  Thee.' 

"  For  a  long  while  he  lay  and  gazed  at  his  son,  and  spoke  in 
a  feeble  voice  at  last. 

"  '  Ernest,  my  boy,  you  are  very  young  ;  but  you  have  a 
good  heart ;  you  can  understand,  no  doubt,  that  a  promise 

given  to  a  dying  man  is  sacred ;  a  promise  to  a  father 

Do  you  feel  that  you  can  be  trusted  with  a  secret,  and  keep  it 
so  well  and  closely  that  even  your  mother  herself  shall  not 
know  that  you  have  a  secret  to  keep?  There  is  no  one  else  in 
this  house  whom  I  can  trust  to-day.  You  will  not  betray  my 
trust,  will  you  ? ' 

"  '  No,  father.' 

"  '  Very  well,  then,  Ernest,  in  a  minute  or  two  I  will  give 
you  a  sealed  packet  that  belongs  to  M.  Derville ;  you  must 
take  such  care  of  it  that  no  one  can  know  that  you  have  it ; 
then  you  must  slip  out  of  the  house  and  put  the  letter  into  the 
post-box  at  the  corner.' 

"  'Yes,  father.' 

"  '  Can  I  depend  upon  you? ' 

'"Yes,  father.' 

*' '  Come  and  kiss  me.  You  have  made  death  less  bitter  to 
me,  dear  boy.  In  six  or  seven  years'  time  you  will  under- 
stand the  importance  of  this  secret,  and  you  will  be  well 
rewarded  then  for  your  quickness  and  obedience,  you  will 
know  then  how  much  I  love  you.  Leave  me  alone  for  a  min- 
ute, and  let  no  one — no  matter  whom — come  in  meanwhile.' 

"  Ernest  went  out  and  saw  his  mother  standing  in  the  next 
room. 


M.  GOBSECK.  381 

**  'Ernest,'  said  she  'come  here.' 

**  She  sat  down,  drew  her  son  to  her  knees  and  clasped  him 
in  her  arms  and  held  him  tightly  to  her  heart. 

**  *  Ernest,  your  father  said  something  to  you  just  now.' 

"  'Yes,  mamma.' 

"'What  did  he  say?' 

**  *  I  cannot  repeat  it,  mamma.' 

** '  Oh,  my  dear  child,'  cried  the  Countess,  kissing  him  in 
rapture.  '  You  have  kept  your  secret ;  how  glad  that  makes 
me  !  Never  tell  a  lie ;  never  fail  to  keep  your  word — rthose 
are  two  principles  which  should  never  be  forgotten.' 

"  *  Oh  !  mamma,  how  beautiful  you  are !  You  never  told  a 
lie,  I  am  quite  sure.' 

"  '  Once  or  twice,  Ernest  dear,  I  have  lied.  Yes,  and  I 
have  not  kept  my  word  under  circumstances  which  speak 
louder  than  all  precepts.  Listen,  my  Ernest,  you  are  big 
enough  and  intelligent  enough  to  see  that  your  father  drives 
me  away,  and  will  not  allow  me  to  nurse  him,  and  this  is 
not  natural,  for  you  know  how  much  I  love  him.* 

**  *  Yes,  mamma.* 

"The  Countess  began  to  cry.  'Poor  child!*  she  said, 
*  this  misfortune  is  the  result  of  treacherous  insinuations. 
Wicked  people  have  tried  to  separate  me  from  your  father  to 
satisfy  their  greed.  They  mean  to  take  all  our  money  from 
us  and  to  keep  it  for  themselves.  If  your  father  were  well, 
the  division  between  us  would  soon  be  over ;  he  would  listen 
to  me ;  he  is  loving  and  kind ;  he  would  see  his  mistake. 
But  now  his  mind  is  affected,  and  his  prejudices  against  me 
have  become  a  fixed  idea,  a  sort  of  mania  with  him.  It  is 
one  result  of  his  illness.  Your  father's  fondness  for  you  is 
another  proof  that  his  mind  is  deranged.  Until  he  fell  ill 
you  never  noticed  that  he  loved  you  more  than  Pauline  or 
Georges.  It  is  all  caprice  with  him  now.  In  his  affection 
for  you  he  might  take  it  into  his  head  to  tell  you  to  do  things 
for  him.     If  you  do  not  want  to  ruin  us  all,  my  darling,  and 


362  M.  GOBSECK. 

to  see  your  mother  begging  her  bread  like  a  pauper  woman, 
you  must  tell  her  everything ' 

"  '  Ah  !  '  cried  the  Count.  He  had  opened  the  door  and 
stood  there,  a  sudden,  half.naked  apparition,  almost  as  thin 
and  fleshless  as  a  skeleton. 

*'  His  smothered  cry  produced  a  terrible  effect  upon  the 
Countess ;  she  sat  motionless,  as  if  a  sudden  stupor  had  seized 
her.  Her  husband  was  as  white  and  wasted  as  if  he  had  risen 
out  of  his  grave. 

"  *  You  have  filled  my  life  to  the  full  with  trouble,  and  now 
you  are  trying  to  vex  my  death-bed,  to  warp  my  boy's  mind, 
and  make  a  depraved  man  of  him  !  '  he  cried  hoarsely. 

"  The  Countess  flung  herself  at  his  feet.  His  face,  working 
with  the  last  emotions  of  life,  was  almost  hideous  to  see." 

"  '  Mercy  !  mercy  ! '  she  cried  aloud,  shedding  a  torrent 
of  tears. 

"  '  Have  you  shown  me  any  pity  ? '  he  asked.  *  I  allowed 
you  to  squander  your  own  money,  and  now  do  you  mean  to 
squander  my  fortune,  too,  and  ruin  my  son  ?  ' 

'*  *  Ah  !  well,  yes,  have  no  pity  for  me,  be  merciless  to  me  ! ' 
she  cried.  *  But  the  children  ?  Condemn  your  widow  to  live 
in  a  convent ;  I  will  obey  you  ;  I  will  do  anything,  anything 
that  you  bid  me,  to  expiate  the  wrong  I  have  done  you,  if 
that  only  the  children  may  be  happy !  The  children  !  Oh, 
the  children  !  ' 

"  *  I  have  only  one  child,*  said  the  Count,  stretching  out  a 
wasted  arm,  in  his  despair,  towards  his  son. 

"'Pardon   a  penitent  woman,  a  penitent  woman! * 

wailed  the  Countess,  her  arms  about  her  husband's  damp  feet. 
She  could  not  speak  for  sobbing ;  vague,  incoherent  sounds 
broke  from  her  parched  throat. 

"  'You  dare  to  talk  of  penitence  after  all  that  you  said  to 
Ernest! '  exclaimed  the  dying  man,  shaking  off  the  Countess, 
who  lay  groveling  at  his  'eet.  'You  turn  me  to  ice  !  '  he 
added,  and  there  was  something  appalling  in  the  indifference 


CLOTHES  AND  PAPERS   AND  RACS   LAY   TOSSED  ABOUT  JN 
CONFUSION. 


M.  GOBSECK.  368 

with  which  he  uttered  the  words.  *  You  have  been  a  bad 
daughter;  you  have  been  a  bad  wife;  you  will  be  a  bad 
mother.' 

"  The  wretched  woman  fainted  away.  The  dying  man 
reached  his  bed  and  lay  down  again,  and  a  few  hours  later 
sank  into  unconsciousness.  The  priests  came  and  adminis- 
tered the  sacraments. 

**At  midnight  he  died;  the  scene  that  morning  had  ex- 
hausted his  remaining  strength,  and  on  the  stroke  of  mid- 
night I  arrived  with  Daddy  Gobseck.  The  house  was  in 
confusion,  and  under  cover  of  it  we  walked  up  into  the  little 
salon  adjoining  the  death-chamber.  The  three  children  were 
there  in  tears,  with  two  priests,  who  had  come  to  watch  with 
the  dead.  Ernest  came  over  to  me^  and  said  that  his  mother 
desired  to  be  alone  in  the  Count's  room. 

"  '  Do  not  go  in,'  he  said  ;  and  I  admired  the  child  for  his 
tone  and  gesture;   '  she  is  praying  there.' 

' '  Gobseck  began  to  laugh  that  soundless  laugh  of  his,  but 
I  felt  too  much  touched  by  the  feeling  in  Ernest's  little  face 
to  join  in  the  miser's  sardonic  amusement.  When  Ernest 
saw  that  we  moved  towards  the  door,  he  planted  himself  in 
front  of  it,  crying  out,  '  Mamma,  here  are  some  gentlemen  in 
black  who  want  to  see  you  ! ' 

*'  Gobseck  lifted  Ernest  out  of  the  way  as  if  the  child  had 
been  a  feather,  and  opened  the  door. 

''What  a  scene  it  was  that  met  our  eyes  !  The  room  was 
in  frightful  disorder ;  clothes  and  papers  and  rags  lay  tossed 
about  in  a  confusion  horrible  to  see  in  the  presence  of  death  ; 
and  there,  in  the  midst,  stood  the  Countess  in  disheveled  de- 
spair, unable  to  utter  a  word,  her  eyes  glittering.  The  Count 
had  scarcely  breathed  his  last  before  his  wife  came  in  and 
forced  open  the  drawers  and  the  desk ;  the  carpet  was  strewn 
with  litter,  some  of  the  furniture  and  boxes  were  broken,  the 
signs  of  violence  could  be  seen  everywhere.  But  if  her  search 
had  at  first  proved  fruitless,  there  was  that  in  her  excitement 


364  M.   GOBSECK. 

and  attitude  which  led  me  to  believe  that  she  had  found  the 
mysterious  documents  at  last.  I  glanced  at  the  bed,  and  pro- 
fessional instinct  told  me  all  that  had  happened.  The  mat- 
tress had  been  flung  contemptuously  down  by  the  bedside, 
and  across  it,  face  downwards,  lay  the  body  of  the  Count, 
like  one  of  the  paper  envelopes  that  strewed  the  carpet — he 
too  was  nothing  now  but  an  envelope.  There  was  something 
grotesquely  horrible  in  the  attitude  of  the  stiffening,  rigid 
limbs. 

**  The  dying  man  must  have  hidden  the  counter-deed  under 
his  pillow  to  keep  it  safe  so  long  as  life  should  last ;  and  his 
wife  must  have  guessed  his  thought ;  indeed,  it  might  be  read 
plainly  in  his  last  dying  gesture,  in  the  convulsive  clutch  of 
his  claw-like  hands.  The  pillow  had  been  flung  to  the  floor 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed  ;  I  could  see  the  print  of  her  heel  upon 
it.  At  her  feet  lay  a  paper  with  the  Count's  arms  on  the 
seals ;  I  snatched  it  up,  and  saw  that  it  was  addressed  to  me. 
I  looked  steadily  at  the  Countess  with  the  pitiless  clear-sighted- 
ness of  an  examining  magistrate  confronting  a  guilty  creature. 
The  contents  were  blazing  in  the  grate ;  she  had  flung  them 
on  the  fire  at  the  sound  of  our  approach,  imagining,  fiom  a 
first  hasty  glance  at  the  provisions  which  I  had  suggested  for 
her  children,  that  she  was  destroying  a  will  which  disinherited 
them.  A  tormented  conscience  and  involuntary  horror  of 
the  deed  which  she  had  done  had  taken  away  all  power  of 
reflection.  She  had  been  caught  in  the  act,  and  possibly  the 
scaff'old  was  rising  before  her  eyes,  and  she  already  felt  the 
felon's  branding  iron. 

"  There  she  stood  gasping  for  breath,  waiting  for  us  to 
speak,  staring  at  us  with  haggard  eyes,  and  every  feature 
manifesting  a  guilty  conscience. 

"  I  went  across  to  the  grate  and  pulled  out  an  unburned 
fragment.  *  Ah,  madame  ! '  I  exclaimed,  '  you  have  ruined 
your  children  !  Those  papers  were  their  titles  to  their  prop- 
erty.* 


M.  GOBSECK.  365 

"  Her  mouth  twitched,  she  looked  as  if  she  were  threatened 
by  a  paralytic  seizure. 

"  '  Eh  !  eh  !  '  cried  Gobseck  ;  the  harsh,  shrill  tone  grated 
upon  our  ears  like  the  sound  of  a  brass  candlestick  scratching 
a  marble  surface. 

"  There  was  a  pause,  then  the  old  man  turned  to  me  and 
said  quietly — 

"  '  Do  you  intend  Mme.  la  Comtesse  to  suppose  that  I  am 
not  the  rightful  owner  of  the  property  sold  to  me  by  her  late 
husband  ?     This  house  belongs  to  me  now.' 

"  A  sudden  blow  on  the  head  from  a  bludgeon  would  have 
given  me  less  pain  and  astonishment.  The  Countess  saw  the 
look  of  hesitation  in  my  face. 

"  '  Monsieur,'  she  cried,  '  Monsieur  !  *  She  could  find  no 
other  words. 

"  '  You  are  a  trustee,  are  you  not  ? '  I  asked. 

*'  'That  is  possible.' 

**  *  Then  do  you  mean  to  take  advantage  of  this  crime  of 
hers  ? ' 

"  '  Precisely.' 

"  I  went  at  that,  leaving  the  Countess  sitting  by  her  hus- 
band's bedside,  shedding  hot  tears.  Gobseck  followed  me. 
Outside  in  the  street  I  separated  from  him,  but  .he  came  after 
me,  flung  me  one  of  those  searching  glances  with  which  he 
probed  men's  minds,  and  said  in  the  husky  flute-tones,  pitched 
in  a  shriller  key — 

"  '  Do  you  take  it  upon  yourself  to  judge  me?  * 

"From  that  time  forward  we  saw  little  of  each  other. 
Gobseck  let  the  Count's  mansion  on  lease ;  he  spent  the 
summers  on  the  country  estates.  He  was  a  lord  of  the  manor 
in  earnest,  putting  up  farm  buildings,  repairing  mills  and 
roadways,  and  planting  timber.  I  came  across  him  one  day 
in  a  w^alk  in  the  Jardin  des  Tuileries. 

"  'The  Countess  is  behaving  like  a  heroine,'  said  I;  *she 


366  M.  GOBSECK. 

gives  herself  up  entirely  to  the  children's  education ;  she  is 
giving  them  a  perfect  bringing  up.  The  oldest  boy  is  a 
charming  young  fellow ' 

•■'  '  That  is  possible.' 

"  *  But  ought  you  not  to  help  Ernest  ? '  I  suggested. 

"  '  Help  him  ! '  cried  Gobseck.  '  Not  I !  Adversity  is 
the  greatest  of  all  teachers ;  adversity  teaches  us  to  know  the 
value  of  money  and  the  worth  of  men  and  women.  Let  him 
set  sail  on  the  seas  of  Paris ;  when  he  is  a  qualified  pilot,  we 
will  give  him  a  ship  to  steer.' 

"  I  left  him  without  seeking  to  explain  the  meaning  of  his 
words. 

"  M.  de  Restaud's  mother  has  prejudiced  him  against  me, 
and  he  is  very  far  from  taking  me  as  his  legal  adviser ;  still,  I 
went  to  see  Gobseck  last  week  to  tell  him  about  Ernest's  love 
for  Mile.  Camille,  and  pressed  him  to  carry  out  his  contract, 
since  that  young  Restaud  is  just  of  age. 

"  I  found  that  the  old-bill  discounter  had  been  kept  to  his 
bed  for  a  long  time  by  the  complaint  of  which  he  was  to  die. 
He  put  me  off,  saying  that  he  would  give  the  matter  his  atten- 
tion when  he  could  get  up  again  and  see  after  his  business ; 
his  idea  being  no  doubt  that  he  would  not  give  up  any  of  his 
possessions  so  long  as  the  breath  was  in  him  ;  no  other  reason 
could  be  found  for  his  shuffling  answer.  He  seemed  to  me  to 
be  much  worse  than  he  at  all  suspected.  I  stayed  with  him 
long  enough  to  discern  the  progress  of  a  passion  which  age 
had  converted  into  a  sort  of  craze.  He  wanted  to  be  alone 
in  the  house,  and  had  taken  the  rooms  one  by  one  as  they  fell 
vacant.  In  his  own  room  he  had  changed  nothing ;  the  fur- 
niture which  I  knew  so  well  sixteen  years  ago  looked  the  same 
as  ever ;  it  might  have  been  kept  under  a  glass  case.  Gob- 
seck's  faithful  old  portress,  with  her  husband,  a  pensioner, 
who  sat  in  the  entry  while  she  was  upstairs,  was  still  his  house- 
keeper and  charwoman,  and  now  in  addition  his  sick-nurse. 
In  spite  of  his  feebleness,  Gobseck  saw  his  clients  himself  as 


M.  GOBSECK.  367 

heretofore,  and  received  sums  of  money ;  his  affairs  had  been 
so  simplified,  that  he  only  needed  to  send  his  pensioner  out 
now  and  again  on  an  errand,  and  could  carry  on  business  in 
his  bed. 

"After  the  treaty,  by  which  France  recognized  the  Haytian 
Republic,  Gobseck  was  one  of  the  members  of  the  commission 
appointed  to  liquidate  claims  and  assess  repayments  due  by 
Hayti ;  his  special  knowledge  of  old  fortunes  in  San  Domingo, 
and  the  planters  and  their  heirs  and  assigns  to  whom  the  in- 
demnities were  due,  had  led  to  his  nomination.  Gobseck's 
peculiar  genius  had  then  devised  an  agency  for  discounting  the 
planters'  claims  on  the  government.  The  business  was  carried 
on  under  the  names  of  Werbrust  and  Gigonnet,  with  whom  he 
shared  the  spoil  without  disbursements,  for  his  knowledge  was 
accepted  instead  of  capital.  The  agency  was  a  sort  of  distillery, 
in  which  money  was  extracted  from  doubtful  claims,  and  the 
claims  of  those  who  knew  no  better,  or  had  no  confidence  in 
the  government.  As  a  liquidator,  Gobseck  could  make  terras 
with  the  large  landed  proprietors ;  and  these,  either  to  gain  a 
higher  percentage  of  their  claims  or  to  ensure  prompt  settle- 
ments, would  send  him  presents  in  proportion  to  their  means. 
In  this  way  presents  came  to  be  a  kind  of  percentage  upon 
sums  too  large  to  pass  through  his  control,  while  the  agency 
bought  up  cheaply  the  small  and  dubious  claims,  or  the  claims 
of  those  persons  who  preferred  a  little  ready  money  to  a  de- 
ferred and  somewhat  hazy  repayment  by  the  Republic.  Gob- 
seck was  the  insatiable  boa-constrictor  of  the  great  business. 
Every  morning  he  received  his  tribute,  eyeing  it  like  a  Na- 
bob's prime  minister,  as  he  considers  whether  he  will  sign  a 
pardon.  Gobseck  would  take  anything,  from  the  present  of 
game  sent  him  by  some  poor  devil  or  the  pound's  weight  of 
wax-candles  from  devout  folk,  to  the  rich  man's  plate  and  the 
speculator's  gold  snuff-box.  Nobody  knew  what  became  of 
the  presents  sent  to  the  old  money-lender.  Everything  went 
in,  but  nothing  came  out. 


868  M.   GOBSECK. 

"  '  On  the  word  of  an  honest  woman,*  said  the  portress, 
an  old  acquaintance  of  mine,  *  I  believe  he  swallows  it  all 
and  is  none  the  fatter  for  it ;  he  is  as  thin  and  dried  up  as  the 
cuckoo  in  the  clock.' 

"At  length,  last  Monday,  Gobseck  sent  his  pensioner  for 
me.     The  man  came  up  to  my  private  office. 

"  *  Be  quick  and  come,  M.  Derville,'  said  he,  '  the  gov- 
ernor is  just  going  to  hand  in  his  checks  ;  he  has  grown  as 
yellow  as  a  lemon ;  he  is  fidgeting  to  speak  with  you ;  death 
has  fair  hold  of  him  ;  the  rattle  is  working  in  his  throat.' 

"  When  I  entered  Gobseck's  room,  I  found  the  dying  man 
kneeling  before  the  grate.  If  there  was  no  fire  on  the  hearth, 
there  was  at  any  rate  a  monstrous  heap  of  ashes.  He  had 
dragged  himself  out  of  bed,  but  his  strength  had  failed  him, 
and  he  could  neither  go  back  nor  find  voice  to  complain. 

"  *  You  felt  cold,  old  friend,'  I  said,  as  I  helped  him  back 
to  his  bed  ;  '  how  can  you  do  without  a  fire  ? ' 

"  '  I  am  not  cold  at  all,'  he  said.  '  No  fire  here  !  no  fire  ! 
I  am  going,  I  know  not  where,  lad,'  he  went  on,  glancing  at 
me  with  blank,  lightless  eyes,  '  but  I  am  going  away  from 
this.  I  have  carpology,^  said  he  (the  use  of  the  technical  term 
showing  how  clear  and  accurate  his  mental  processes  were  even 
now).  *  I  thought  the  room  was  full  of  live  gold,  and  I  got 
up  to  catch  some  of  it.  To  whom  will  all  mine  go,  I  wonder? 
Not  to  the  Crown  ;  I  have  left  a  will,  look  for  it,  Grotius. 
"The  Holland  Belle"  had  a  daughter;  I  once  saw  the  girl 
somewhere  or  other,  in  the  Rue  Vivienne,  one  evening.  They 
call  her  "  La  Torpille,"  I  believe  ;  she  is  as  pretty  as  pretty 
can  be ;  look  her  up,  Grotius.  You  are  my  executor ;  take 
what  you  like ;  help  yourself.  There  are  Strasbourg  pies 
there,  and  bags  of  coffee,  and  sugar,  and  gold  spoons.  Give 
the  Odiot  service  to  your  wife.  But  who  is  to  have  the 
diamonds  ?  Are  you  going  to  take  them,  lad  ?  There  is 
snuff  too — sell  it  at  Hamburg,  tobaccos  are  worth  half  as  much 
again  at  Hamburg.     All  sorts  of  things  I  have,  in  fact,  and 


M.  GOBSECK.  369 

now  I  must  go  and  leave  them  all.  Come,  Papa  Gobseck,  no 
weakness,  be  yourself !  ' 

"  He  raised  himself  in  bed,  the  lines  of  his  face  standing 
out  as  sharply  against  the  pillow  as  if  the  profile  had  been  cast 
in  bronze ;  he  stretched  out  a  lean  arm  and  bony  hand  along 
the  coverlet  and  clutched  it,  as  if  so  he  would  fain  keep  his 
hold  on  life,  then  he  gazed  hard  at  the  grate,  cold  as  his  own 
metallic  eyes,  and  died  in  full  consciousness  of  death.  To  us 
— the  portress,  the  old  pensioner,  and  myself — he  looked  like 
one  of  the  old  Romans  standing  behind  the  consuls  in  Leth- 
iere's  picture  of  the  *  Death  of  the  Sons  Brutus.' 

"  'He  was  a  good-plucked  one,  the  old  Lascar !  *  said  the 
pensioner  in  his  soldierly  fashion. 

"  But  as  for  me,  the  dying  man's  fantastical  enumeration  of 
his  riches  was  still  sounding  in  my  ears,  and  my  eyes,  follow- 
ing the  direction  of  his,  rested  on  that  heap  of  ashes.  It 
struck  me  that  it  was  very  large.  I  took  the  tongs,  and,  as 
soon  as  I  stirred  the  cinders,  I  felt  the  metal  underneath,  a 
mass  of  gold  and  silver  coins,  receipts  taken  during  his  illness, 
doubtless,  after  he  grew  too  feeble  to  lock  the  money  up, 
and  could  trust  no  one  to  take  it  to  the  bank  for  him. 

**  'Run  for  the  justice  of  the  peace,'  said  I,  turning  to  the 
old  pensioner,  *  so  that  everything  can  be  sealed  here  at 
once.' 

"Gobseck's  last  words  and  the  old  portress'  remarks  had 
struck  me.  I  took  the  keys  of  the  rooms  on  the  first  and 
second  floor  to  make  a  visitation.  The  first  door  that  I 
opened  revealed  the  meaning  of  the  phrases  which  I  took  for 
mad  ravings ;  and  I  saw  the  length  to  which  covetousness  goes 
when  it  survives  only  as  an  illogical  instinct,  the  last  stage  of 
greed  of  which  you  find  so  many  examples  among  misers  in 
country  towns. 

"  In  the  room  next  to  the  one  in  which  Gobseck  had  died, 
a  quantity  of  eatables  of  all  kinds  were  stored — putrid  pies, 
moldy  fish,  nay,  even  shell-fish ;  the  stench  almost  choked 
24 


370  M.  GOBSECK. 

me.  Maggots  and  insects  swarmed.  These  comparatively- 
recent  presents  were  put  down,  pell-mell,  among  chests  of 
tea,  bags  of  coffee,  and  packing-cases  of  every  shape.  A 
silver  soup  tureen  on  the  chimney-piece  was  full  of  advices  of 
the  arrival  of  goods  consigned  to  his  order  at  Havre,  bales  of 
cotton,  hogsheads  of  sugar,  barrels  of  rum,  coffees,  indigo, 
tobaccos,  a  perfect  bazaar  of  colonial  produce.  The  room 
itself  was  crammed  with  furniture,  and  silver-plate,  and 
lamps,  and  vases,  and  pictures ;  there  were  books,  and  curi- 
osities, and  fine  engravings  lying  rolled  up,  unframed.  Per- 
haps these  were  not  all  presents,  and  some  part  of  this  vast 
quantity  of  stuff  had  been  deposited  with  him  in  the  shape  of 
pledges,  and  had  been  left  on  his  hands  in  default  of  pay- 
ment. I  noticed  jewel-cases,  with  ciphers  and  armorial  bear- 
ings stamped  upon  them,  and  sets  of  fine  table-linen,  and 
weapons  of  price ;  but  none  of  the  things  were  docketed.  I 
opened  a  book  which  seemed  to  be  misplaced,  and  found  a 
thousand-franc  note  in  it.  I  promised  myself  that  I  would  go 
through  everything  thoroughly  ;  I  would  try  the  ceilings,  and 
floors,  and  walls,  and  cornices  to  discover  all  the  gold, 
hoarded  with  such  passionate  greed  by  a  Dutch  miser  worthy 
of  a  Rembrandt's  brush.  In  all  the  course  of  my  profes- 
sional career  I  have  never  seen  such  impressive  signs  of  the 
eccentricity  of  avarice. 

**  I  went  back  to  his  room,  and  found  an  explanation  of 
this  chaos  and  accumulation  of  riches  in  a  pile  of  letters 
lying  under  the  paper-weights  on  his  desk — Gobseck's  cor- 
respondence with  the  various  dealers  to  whom  doubtless  he 
usually  sold  his  presents.  These  persons  had,  perhaps,  fallen 
victims  to  Gobseck's  cleverness,  or  Gobseck  may  have  wanted 
fancy  prices  for  his  goods  ;  at  any  rate,  every  bargain  hung  in 
suspense.  He  had  not  disposed  of  the  eatables  to  Chevet,  be- 
cause Chevet  would  only  take  them  of  him  at  a  loss  of  thirty 
per  cent.  Gobseck  haggled  for  a  few  francs  between  the  prices, 
and  while  they  wrangled  the  goods  became  unsalable.     Again, 


M.  GOBSECK.  371 

Gobseck  had  refused  free  delivery  of  his  silver-plate,  and  de- 
clined to  guarantee  the  weights  of  his  coffees.  There  had 
been  a  dispute  over  each  article,  the  first  indication  in  Gob- 
seck of  the  childishness  and  incomprehensible  obstinacy  of 
age,  a  condition  of  mind  reached  at  last  by  all  men  in  whom 
a  strong  passion  survives  the  intellect. 

"  I  said  to  myself,  as  he  had  said,  *  To  whom  will  all  these 
riches  go  ?  ' And  when  I  think  of  the  grotesque  infor- 
mation he  gave  me  as  to  the  present  address  of  his  heiress,  I 
foresee  that  it  will  be  my  duty  to  search  all  the  houses  of 
ill-fame  in  Paris  to  pour  out  an  immense  fortune  on  some 
worthless  jade.  But,  in  the  first  place,  know  this — that 
in  a  few  days'  time  Ernest  de  Restaud  will  come  into  a  for- 
tune to  which  his  title  is  unquestionable,  a  fortune  which  will 
put  him  in  a  position  to  marry  Mile.  Camille,  even  after 
adequate  provision  has  been  made  for  his  mother  the  Comtesse 
de  Restaud,  and  his  sister  and  brother." 

"  Well,  dear  M.  Derville,  we  will  think  about  it,"  said 
Mme.  de  Grandlieu.  "M.  Ernest  ought  to  be  very  wealthy 
indeed  if  such  a  family  as  ours  must  accept  that  mother  of  his. 
Bear  in  mind  that  my  son  will  be  the  Due  de  Grandlieu  one 
day ;  he  will  unite  the  estates  of  both  the  houses  that  bear  our 
name,  and  I  wish  him  to  have  a  brother-in-law  to  his  mind." 

"  But  Restaud  bears  gules,  a  traverse  argent,  on  four 
scutcheons  or,  a  cross  sable,  and  that  is  a  very  pretty  coat  of 
arms, ' ' 

"That  is  true,"  said  the  Vicomtesse;  "and,  besides, 
Camille  need  not  see  her  mother-in-law." 

"Mme.  de  Beauseant  used  to  receive  Mme.  de  Restaud," 
said  the  gray-haired  uncle. 

"Oh!  that  was  at  her  great  crushes,"  replied  the  Vicom- 
tesse. 

Vkbis,  January,  1830. 


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